


Dirty Dancing

by iamthececimonster



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Eating Disorders, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gangs, OOC Hal, ballerina betty, everyone's a little OOC I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamthececimonster/pseuds/iamthececimonster
Summary: Betty, Jughead, and Archie meet at a summer camp for the arts. They become best friends, they're all struggling. Their story is told in summers.I'm really bad at summaries. But I watched Dirty Dancing and this just became a thing, and it became way longer than I meant it to. Entirely unbeta'd.





	1. Summer 14

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a dancer. I have never been to a summer camp for the arts. Please be gentle. 
> 
> A Serious Note: Betty has an eating disorder. I'm not sure I did a good job of writing it, but, I would like to say this: If you or someone you love has an eating disorder, please get help. You deserve help, you are wonderful and important and valuable. I cannot express this enough.

Jughead Jones sat quietly on his narrow dorm bed, swinging his booted feet back and forth over the edge. His dad had left quickly after dropping him off, a backpack, a small duffel bag, and a sleeping bag dropped on the bed unceremoniously. 

Just a gruff “See you in 2 months, Jug.” And he heard his father’s boots clinking down the hallway. 

Jughead leaned down to unlace his own boots, thinking about reading his book, when he heard a knocking on the open door. He jumped about a foot into the air, and then saw a red headed boy about his own age, holding a sleeping bag and carrying a backpack of his own. Behind him, a short, stocky man held a larger duffel bag and a guitar case. The guitar case was the only thing that looked as worn as Jughead’s stuff. The man nudged the red haired boy forward. 

“Uhm,” he started. “I’m Archie Andrews.” The boy declared. “This is my dad.”

“I’m Jughead Jones,” staring at this new boy as if daring him to laugh. “My dad just left. He had to…he had to go to work.”

“I guess we’re roomies, then, huh!?” Archie said, excitedly dropping his blue sleeping bag on the other bed in the small room. 

Jughead appraised the other boy quietly from his perch on his own bed. “I guess so?”

Archie’s dad chuckled lightly, dropping the duffel on the floor and placing the guitar case gently on the bed. 

“Apparently, I can take you out to lunch, as long as I have you back by 2:00.” Mr. Andrews looked at his watch. “Jughead, would you like to come with us?”

Jughead gulped. He wasn’t used to be regarded so kindly by adults. They usually assumed that he was no good. Too much like his father. From his dark hair down to his old boots, too much like FP. 

“Uh, that’s okay Mr. Andrews. My dad didn’t leave me much money, so I was just going to eat in the cafeteria.”

“Oh, that’s alright, Jughead. My treat. I saw this place that looked like it had great burgers and I would kill for a milkshake right now. And please, call me Fred.” Archie’s dad smiled, the lines by his eyes wrinkling. 

“Oh, man, you gotta! Come on!” Archie pleaded. 

Jughead imagined a cold, chocolate milkshake in his mind’s eye, and that’s what tipped him over the edge. He retied his boot lace and hopped off the bed. 

“Okay.” He shrugged. 

The three piled into Fred Andrew’s peeling red truck and went to lunch. 

 

Betty Cooper clung to her older sister, Polly’s hand, standing in the middle of her dorm room. Alice Cooper, their mother, was giving them a parting lecture. They had less than fifteen minutes to get to the Start of Camp meeting, and Betty did not want to be late. 

“Remember, girls. Just make sure you log all of your calories. Don’t eat any sweets. Vegetables and protein.” Alice pointed her manicured finger at them. 

Polly stared blankly back at their mother. Betty nodded. She felt her mind wandering, wondering if she would like her roommate. The petite, dark skinned girl had barely greeted her before being whisked off by two other girls, giggling and wearing matching shirts. Betty had never had a friend like that. Finally, after about ten more minutes of lecture about making sure they listened to the coaches and stood up straight and stretched and watched their diets and ate enough lettuce and drank too much water, Alice gave each girl a cold peck on the cheek and left the room without ceremony. 

Polly let out a breath. “Thank goodness. The witch is gone. Let’s go, Betty Bop.”

Betty smiled at the nickname. “It’ll be a fun summer. You’re lucky you know your roommate.”

“Don’t worry, Betty. You’ll make friends in no time. Everyone loves you.” Polly pulled her younger sister in for a brief hug, and then tugged her towards the door. “Now come on. We don’t want to be late to the meeting.” 

The sisters slid into the room just as the meeting was getting ready to start, Polly immediately pulled to the side by her roommate and a couple other friends from the previous summers. Betty scanned the room for her own roommate and saw her sitting with the other two girls from earlier. They were deep in conversation and didn’t look at up at all. Betty was starting to feel panicked, frozen in place. One of the counselors gestured her towards an open seat next to a dark haired boy about her own age. She sat, hoping she wasn’t disturbing him. He looked up when she sat, his eyes a bright, almost shocking blue. She smiled softly. 

From the dark haired boy’s other side, a boy with bright red hair and a face full of freckles leaned over. “I’m Archie Andrews,” he said, sticking his hand across to shake Betty’s, “and this is Jughead Jones. We’re roommates. It’s our first year. You?” he whispered, his voice as bright as his hair.

She took his hand, politely shaking it, and then shaking the other boy’s hand when he offered as well. “My name is Betty Cooper. It’s my first year, too.” 

Just then, the austere looking woman at the front of the room started to speak. Betty sat ramrod straight in her chair and Jughead scuffed his feet on the floor in front of him, trying not to stare at the girl sitting next to him. He was pretty sure she was an angel, with hair so blonde and eyes so green it took his breath away. The head of the camp spoke for about a half hour, telling them about how much of an honor it was for them to be there, and about the camp’s expectations. She then went through and introduced the camp staff to everyone. There were counselors, coaches, camp doctors, so many people Jughead’s head spun a little bit. Counselors would be watching them in the dorms and assisting coaches in teaching classes. She explained that their schedules would be posted on their doors at the start of every week, they were all expected to be on time for every lesson and to follow their tracks’ guidelines with diligence. Then, after nearly an hour (according to Archie’s wristwatch), she told them they would go back to their halls to meet with their counselors, and reconvene for dinner at 5:30 in the cafeteria. Jughead’s head picked up when he heard dinner. The camp website said that meals were served buffet style three times a day, and Jughead was excited to eat as much as he could. 

The entire camp, about 120 odd people, stood up and started moving around, making noise. Betty started to stand, searching for the tall girl with jet black braids who had been holding the sign that read “GIRLS 14” near the front of the room. Then she felt someone grab her arm. She looked back at the red haired boy ( _ Archie,  _ she reminded herself) holding her wrist. 

“Wait, Betty!” He smiled, bright and open. “Sit with us at dinner?” he implored, letting go of her arm. 

She froze again for a minute. Then she saw Jughead’s shockingly blue eyes staring into hers imploringly and she heard herself agreeing. “Save me a seat, okay?”

Jughead nodded. “We will.”

Then she spotted her counselor against the far wall, and waved to the boys, walking away. 

The next hour and a half passed quickly, then 10 girls on her hallway introducing themselves. Betty learned that her roommate was here for music. Her name was Valerie. She played the guitar, the piano, and a couple other instruments, and the other two girls she was with were also musicians. They played in a band together back home, they called their band Josie and the Pussycats. Josie was the lead, a singer, and the other girl was Melody, the percussionist. A green feeling rose in Betty’s chest, a longing for friends like that. But they were nice, sitting with Betty and complimenting her pale pink sweater. There was a tall, slender girl with long red hair named Cheryl, she was an actress, apparently. Her twin brother, Jason, was also at camp. He was an actor. Cheryl was prim and aloof, head held high, tossing her waist length hair over her shoulder with flourish. When it came time for Betty to introduce herself, she looked down at her hands, telling the floor she was a dancer, a ballerina. And so was her older sister, Polly. The counselor, a college-aged girl named Tammy, smiled and welcomed her to camp. Tammy then explained how the summer would pass – as first and second year campers, they would spend the mornings in general arts classes, but in the afternoons, they would focus on their own areas.  They’d all have to classes in basic dance, music, and acting, but in their own focus areas, they’d perform as a group at the end of the summer. Passively, Betty wondered what Archie and Jughead were here for. Dance would be broken up by style and music would be broken up between voice and instrument, which Betty was thankful for, but the Pussycats looked momentarily aghast, clinging to each other. 

Tammy continued, “While you will be primarily in your own style, ladies, you will still have to take classes in the other styles. All dancers have to take class three times a week in different styles: modern, jazz, tap, ballet, hip hop, and even ballroom. All musicians will be in music writing classes together, regardless of instrument or voice. This is true for all first and second year students here, so you’ll be in classes with them.”

The Pussycats cheered, clapping. Betty felt her face fall, clenching her fists tightly. Alice never let her try other styles of dance. There were a couple other styles taught in her studio back home, and she often looked on in envy at modern and hip hop dancers, the fluidity of their movement, the ease with which they seemed to flow. It looked (Betty always blushed when she thought this)  _ sexy _ , and Betty wondered if she’d ever feel like that. She wondered if Polly knew about this. She wondered if  _ Alice  _ knew about this. 

“I have all of your first week schedules with me now. If you have any question, feel free to ask them now. You’ll meet all the instructors tomorrow morning, and they’ll be able to answer in more detail then.” Tammy smiled brightly, pulling a folder out of her bag. 

“Cooper, Elizabeth,” was the second name called, and with clammy hands, Betty took the schedule from her instructor. 

Almost immediately, girls started comparing schedules. Luckily, Betty had a class with at least one of the Pussycats on the afternoons when they had the mixed classes, and there was two other ballerinas in the small group, one of them also taking tap, and another dancer – jazz and modern. The other two girls were actors, one of them also taking singing lessons. So, Betty wouldn’t be alone completely. She folded her schedule until it fit in her back pocket, deciding to ask Jughead and Archie at dinner what their schedules were. 

 

After a few minutes, the counselor told them she would walk them around the small campus, showing them where their classes would be held and where the cafeteria was. There were two main buildings for classes, and a separate, large theatre space. One building was long and low, full of brightly lit dance spaces. Betty saw the bar in one and flexed her hand, stretching on her toes. She looked at the other ballerina, sharing a small smile of recognition. The other two dancers looked equally excited about the hardwood floors and long, floor to ceiling mirrors. Cheryl sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. 

The other building had several classrooms on the main floor and the second floor, and a well-light basement full of soundproofed practice rooms and a full blown recording studio. Betty saw Josie’s eyes light up at the sight of the studio and smiled quietly to herself. 14 years old and already dreaming of stardom. 

Then, Tammy walked them to the cafeteria. As Betty took in the crowd of people filling the space and the long buffet-style food line, she felt her stomach clench. She searched the room, looking for any indication that she had an escape, and heard Tammy speak.

“Alright ladies. Make sure to be back in the dorm building by 7:30. Don’t get lost, but if you have any questions, I’ll probably be sitting in here until 6:30 or so.” 

With that, the girls were left to line up for food. Betty heard Cheryl loudly ask the hassled looking cafeteria worker about vegetarian options and then scoffing at whatever the answer. She felt frozen on the spot. Suddenly, a hand touched her arm. She looked up and released her breath. Polly. 

“Hey Betty Bop. You hungry?” her older sister smiled. 

Betty touched her stomach lightly. “I guess?”

Polly leaned down to hug her, whispering in her ear as she did, “It’s okay to eat, Betty. She’s not here. She won’t know.” 

Chuckling lightly, Betty pulled back. Polly was always stronger, always rejecting Alice’s words. Betty followed quietly, wanting to be the best, the brightest. The Perfect Daughter, the perfect dancer, the perfect girl. She knew she’d follow Alice Cooper’s instructions, no matter what Polly said. Polly knew that, too. But she had to try. 

Betty then realized there was a small handful of teenagers Polly’s age behind her. She had developed a small group of friends, having been at camp for two years already. She ducked her head, cheeks reddening. 

Polly gasped lightly, throwing her arm around Betty. “Oh my gosh, how could I forget. Guys, this is my little sister Betty, the best dancer in all of Connecticut.”

Betty blushed for an entirely different reason this time. “Poll. You’re better than me.” She spoke quietly.

“Not hardly, little sister. More experienced, maybe. But you’ll dance circles around me by the time you’re my age.” Polly smiled brightly, in her element. 

Her friends all greeted Betty, shaking her quaking hands and not remarking at how clammy it must be. They started to offer to have her sit with them when a loud voice said her name right behind her.

“Betty!” Archie’s red hair seemed to be brighter, somehow. He let go of Jughead’s arm, and Jughead rolled his eyes.

They caught up surprisingly quickly. Polly raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow at her little sister. Betty blushed even harder, a feat she didn’t realize was possible. 

“Oh, hi, Archie.” She paused for a moment, seeking out Jughead’s eyes. He looked up, his eyes locking on hers, a dark curl falling across his forehead perfectly, having escaped from his crown beanie. “Hi Jughead.” He smiled at her, barely a quirk of his lips. “This is my sister Polly and her friends. Polly, this is Jughead and Archie. We met at the introduction meeting.”

“Well, Archie, Jughead. Any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine.” Polly said, flashing her 100 gigawatt smile. “You all enjoy your dinner. Find me if you need anything, Betty!” 

With a small wave, Betty watched her sister and the small group of friends around her walk towards the buffet. 

“Come on, guys. Food.” Jughead spoke, his voice surprisingly deep for his age. He grabbed Betty by the wrist and started guiding them in the direction of the growing line. 

Archie laughed. “I think Jughead’s been waiting for this all day. Or at least since lunch.”

“What can I say?” the taller boy grinned, dropping Betty’s wrist to pat his flat stomach. Betty’s stomach lurched, for an entirely new reason, when the feeling of his hand was gone from her arm. “I’m always hungry. I’ll never turn down food.” 

They got in line. Archie and Jughead seemed to put one of everything on their trays. Jughead stood salivating at the cake slices for so long that the older, bald man with twinkling eyes winked at him and whispered conspiratorially,

“You can take two, son. I won’t tell.” 

Gleeful, Jughead put two slices of cake on his plate. 

Betty took a small side salad and a chicken breast and two glasses of water, walking past the cake entirely. 

They stood for a moment, looking at the sea of tables, when Valerie gestured, calling Betty’s name. They walked over to the long table. Betty sat down next to Melody, and Jughead sat next to Betty. Archie sat on the other side, next to Valerie. Josie sat on Valerie’s other side. 

“So, Betty,” Josie began, “introduce us to your friends.”

“Oh!” Betty sat up straighter, tugging on the hem of her cardigan. “Uh, this is Archie and Jughead. They’re in our year. We met in the introduction meeting. Archie, Jughead, this is Josie, Valerie, and Melody,” she gestured to each girl as she said their names. “They’re in a band called Josie and the Pussycats.”

“Oh, you’re musicians, then!” Archie exclaimed. “Me, too! I play the guitar. I sing a little, but…well, mostly it’s guitar.” 

“I play the guitar, too!” Valerie turned to look at him. “Electric or acoustic?”

“Acoustic. Definitely.” Archie nodded definitively. 

Melody interjected. “So, Betty, we know you’re in ballet, but what about you, Jughead?”

He looked alarmed at being addressed, but recovered quickly enough. “I’m also a dancer. Uh, hip hop and modern, mostly.”

“You should have seen his face when he found out he was gonna have to take ballet and tap classes!” Archie laughed.  

Betty detected a slight blush on Jughead’s cheekbones. “Don’t worry, Jughead. I’m pretty sure I had the same face when I found out about modern and hip hop.”

Melody giggled, agreeing. “She looked like she’d seen a ghost, honestly.”

Jughead looked at Betty appreciatively, saying nothing. 

Josie clapped her hands and then reached into the small purse she carried. It had cat whiskers on it. She pulled out her folded schedule. “Come on, boys, what classes do you have!” 

The six of them pulled out their schedules and compared them. Betty’s heart jumped when she realized this meant she’d see Jughead at least once a week in a mixed dance class. He was also with her for the acting class, which she also shared with Archie, Valerie, and Melody. She actually shared all her morning classes with both Archie and Melody, and had the dance class with Josie and the music class with Valerie. They were small classes. Josie made Betty promise to help her with the dance class, and Valerie promised that she wouldn’t let Betty flounder in the music class. 

Betty smiled, feeling her stomach unclench as the evening passed in this way. When they finally had to go back to the dorm, they sat in the common area for another hour. Around 8:45, a counselor Betty didn’t recognize started shooing people out of the common area. Josie and Melody insisted on Betty joining Valerie to their room. With a shrug, Betty agreed to join, waving goodnight to the boys. After another 30 minutes of listening to the Pussycats gossip, Betty decided it was time for sleep. Valerie looked at the clock on Melody’s bedside table, and with a gasp, agreed. The day would start early tomorrow. Breakfast was at 6:00. 

In their shared bathroom, Betty took a quick shower, washing her hair and brushing her teeth. Valerie, apparently, was a morning showerer, but she promised to be quiet, so as to not wake Betty if she was still sleeping. As Valerie’s breathing evened out, Betty quietly pulled a tiny notebook out of her dance bag. She flipped to the right page and, from the light of the moon outside her window and the glow of her small alarm clock, she added a new entry for dinner. Half a chicken breast, half a small side salad, and two glasses of water. Alice would be proud. 

The next morning passed quietly, and the week continued in that vein. So far, nothing too dramatic. Betty caught Polly’s eye at least once at every meal, giving her a small wave. Polly always smiled encouragingly. Every morning, Betty had ballet classes with the other 14- and 15-year-olds, but she occasionally saw Polly in the hallways. Practicing made Betty feel like she was flying. She forgot to be shy when she crossed the floor, forgot to blush when she stood at the bar. Her instructors complimented her form and she glowed with the praise. She went to the acting classes and music classes and managed to ignore Cheryl’s sneer when she stumbled over Shakespeare.

On the first day of the mixed dance class, the studio was much more full than it was usually. Jughead and Betty walked in together, finding a seat on the floor to the side and started to stretch. She pulled her slippers out of her bag, leaving her toe shoes in the bag and tossing the pink flats she’d been wearing in as well. She wore pink tights and a pale blue leotard with a matching skirt. She left her wrap sweater on. Jughead wore black joggers, a black wife beater style tank top, and had a flannel tied around his waist. He still wore the beanie, and his black boots were tied loosely, the tops flopping down. He tossed his messenger style bag down next to him. 

Betty stared at Jughead out of the corner of her eyes, the expanse of his strong looking shoulders. She was suddenly overtaken by the desire to trace the curve of his bicep with her fingertips. He had a dancers body, but he carried himself with careless ease. She shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts free. He was her friend. She had never thought about someone like this before, and she had no idea what was happening. Polly would know what to do, she was sure. 

Jughead was staring at the floor in front of him, willing himself not to look at Betty’s long, lithe dancer’s legs. His 14-year-old mind regarded those tights as unfair, the way her whole outfit clung to her as though taunting him. She was so good, so bright and sunny, and his shoes were at least a size too big. He suddenly seemed to understand what his friend Sweet Pea meant when he talked about the girls in their building. But Betty…they didn’t make girls like this at Sunnyside. Sweet Pea may be more experienced than Jughead, but Jughead wasn’t sure Sweet Pea even knew any girls like Betty. If he did, there was no way he would be so vulgar about them all the time. The instructors walked into the room and Jughead shook his head, trying to focus. 

Each instructor talked for a bit, going over the requirements for their individual styles. Jughead saw Betty’s face pale when the modern instructor told them they’d need baggy, comfortable clothes for his class, and then get even paler when the hip hop instructor explained that they’d need comfortable shoes – boots or sneakers of some kind. He put his hand on her shoulder gently, just a light pressure. She leaned into it, and he scooted slightly closer. They sat like that for a while, and then the tap instructor told them they’d need tap shoes. When a few hands raised, the instructor smiled, explaining that there was a dance store in town with fairly inexpensive tap shoes they could rent for the summer, and they could go over the weekend. Several hands went down. Jughead could barely breathe. One girl that Jughead recognized from his modern class earlier in the week kept her hand up. The instructor called on her. 

“How inexpensive is inexpensive? I’ll need to call my parents.” She demanded. 

“Should only be about $10 for the summer.” The instructor smiled magnanimously, returning to her explanation about what he would be teaching them. 

Jughead remained frozen, tense. His dad had only given him $10 for the entire summer. There was no way…he felt his chest constrict. They he felt a warm pressure against him. Betty had leaned into his side, a soft hand slowly moving up and down his forearm. He felt himself calm. 

Barely audible, she moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, Juggie. We’ll figure it out.” 

Suddenly, Jughead felt tense, for an entirely different reason. Her breath on his ear, whispering a nickname no one had ever called him, was not doing his budding crush any favors. He turned to her upturned face, and felt like all the breath was knocked out of his chest, but the panic was gone. He smiled and nodded to her. 

Shortly after dinner, while the Pussycats and Archie were discussing what movie to watch that evening, Betty saw Polly and her friends stand up across the cafeteria. She stood up. 

“What’s up, Betty?” Archie looked up at her. 

“Oh!” She smiled graciously. “I have to go see if my sister can get Jughead and me a ride into town. Apparently, I need new clothes for dance classes.” She gestured to her outfit, a pair of soft shorts pulled over a leotard and tights. “I need Jughead’s help, because I have no idea what one wears for hip hop dancing.” 

She grabbed the dark haired boy by the arm, pulling him up. He looked forlornly at his chocolate cake, but threw his fork down. She didn’t let go of his arm until they intercepted her sister as she was about to walk out. 

“Betty!” Polly smiled brightly, as always. “How was the first week?”

“Pol.” Betty’s voice was stern. “Why didn’t you tell me about the mixed dance classes?”

Polly clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh god. Betty I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I didn’t want Alice to find out, she’d flip her lid. I meant to tell you though!”

Sighing, instantly forgiving her older sister, Betty softened her voice. “Well, we need to go to town. I apparently need better clothes? And we need tap shoes.” Betty smirked. 

Polly cocked an eyebrow. Reaching into her purse, she dug out her wallet. “Daddy dearest sent me the credit card for in case of emergencies. Fear not, little sister. We’ll go tomorrow. Will young Jughead be coming with us?” 

Betty looked to Jughead. He shrugged, as if to say “I guess so?”

“Yeah, but Polly. How do we  _ get  _ to town?” Betty questioned her sister. 

A tall boy with tan skin and buzzed short hair standing just behind her sister chuckled. “I’ll drive you guys. I have a car here.”

Betty’s eyes widened. 

Polly intercepted the panic. “Betty, Jughead, this is my friend Chuck. Don’t worry, he’s a very good driver.” 

Betty and Jughead shared a look and shrugged. 

“Meet me in the back parking lot around 1:00?” Chuck asked, all smiles. 

“Okay.” Betty took Jughead’s arm again, guiding them back to the table. 

As they walked back to the table, Jughead stopped abruptly. “Betty. I can’t get tap shoes. I don’t…” he looked around and lowered his voice. “I don’t have enough money. Well. I could rent the shoes, but then I wouldn’t have any money for the whole rest of the summer.”

Betty moved her hand to squeeze his. “I told you, Juggie. It’ll be okay. Hal Cooper would buy us the entire store if it meant staying one step ahead of my mother.” She smiled mischievously. 

Jughead cocked his head at her. “You’re an enigma, Betty Cooper.” Then he tightened his grip on her hand and pulled them back to their table, where his chocolate cake awaited him. 

 

The next afternoon, Jughead and Betty slid into the back of Chuck Clayton’s car and Polly smiled from the passenger’s seat.

“All buckled up?” She asked the young teens. They nodded. “Good. Let’s go infuriate Alice Cooper and spend Daddy Dearest’s money.” 

They first went to the dance store, where Polly picked a pair of black ballet slippers for Jughead, who insisted that the instructor said they could dance barefoot. She wouldn’t hear any of it, and called to a store employee to fit both Betty and Jughead for tap shoes to rent. They put their purchases into the trunk of Chuck’s car and drove to the mall. Walking straight to a shoe store, Jughead tried to convince Betty to buy a pair of boots like his. She stared at him with eyes like saucers, unspeaking. Polly suggested they start Betty off a little slower and handed her a pair of black low top Converse All Stars. She let out a breath of relief. Then they went to a different store and Polly piled Betty’s arms with black leggings, matching sports bras, and several flowy tank tops. Jughead eyed a pair of joggers that Polly picked up without even asking him. Chuck just laughed. Finally, purchasing loading down their arms, Chuck guided them to the food court, to a place selling pretzels. Betty acquiesced to a cold lemonade while Jughead ate a salt covered pretzel. Polly and Chuck shared a cinnamon covered pretzel and a bright red slushie. Polly winked at Betty knowingly. 

On the first day of modern dancing class, Betty rushed to meet Jughead, Archie, and the Pussycats at lunch. Jughead felt like someone had punched him in the chest, the way his breath escaped him. She looked like a different person in the dark leggings and the flowing tank top that showed off most of her back and the criss-crossing design on the back of her sports bra. 

Valerie whistled. “And who is this new Betty Cooper?”

She tugged at the bottom of the tank top, bouncing on the toes of her new black Converse. “Heh. Polly dressed me, if I’m honest. I almost got trapped in the straps on this shirt.”

Jughead changed his mind. She didn’t look like a different person. She looked exactly like herself, just a different side of herself. He smiled as she slid into the seat next to him. She blushed faintly, tightening her ponytail. 

In class, she stared intently at the instructor, trying to copy the moves exactly. Her bare feet felt foreign on the floor. After they started doing the moves themselves, the instructor instructed them to line up in 3 lines, to go across the floor. She stood on the other side, giving guidance. When Betty crossed, feeling foolish and out of her element, the instructor found her.

“Betty, right?” The petite instructor asked. Betty nodded. “You dance ballet, right?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Betty spoke to the floor. 

“I can tell,” the instructor spoke with a smile. “I know your instructor will probably smack me for saying this, but try to relax. Slouch your shoulders a little. Fall into the ground.”

Betty just gaped. She had no idea how to do that. 

The instructor seemed to guess that. “Watch Mr. Jones, here.” Betty turned to see that it was Jughead’s turn to be crossing the floor in front of her. 

The way he moved across the floor was incredible. He didn’t mimic the instructor’s movements exactly, adding an extra slide at the end. He ended up at Betty’s feet, smiling and breathless. Betty looked at the instructor, waiting for her to chastise her friend for improvising. The instructor was just smiling and chuckling to herself. 

“There is no need to show off, Mr. Jones. But excellent job.” Jughead just grinned, in his element. The instructor walked off to a different girl, a jazz dancer, giving her guidance and clapping in time with the music. 

“How do you  _ do _ that?” Betty whispered to her friend. 

“Do what?”

“Move like that? Just…move?” She was incredulous. 

“I don’t know, Betts.” He blushed a little at the attention and the sudden use of a nickname. “It just feels natural.” 

“I wish I could do that.”

 

Two weeks later, the hip hop instructor shouted, a voice full of laughter, over the heavy beat of the music. “Feel the music! Move your hips!” 

Betty felt her face turn even redder, trying not to watch the way Jughead’s hips gyrated with the beat. 

 

The next week, Betty pliéd across the floor, head held high. Jughead thought she looked like she was floating. 

 

The next two months passed quickly, brightly. Betty kept careful track in her small notebook and Jughead tried to ignore the nagging feeling that something just wasn’t right about it. Jughead had muscles he didn’t recognize hurting in his legs, and sighed in relief when Betty brought him bags of ice and Icy Hot. While they ached, Archie would serenade them, strumming on his guitar while they lounged on the grass outside, watching the sun slip below the horizon. Jughead quietly wished it would never end, that the summer would stretch on forever, so he could continue reading duets with Betty in their acting class, so he could pretend he didn’t have to go back to the dusty apartment. 

 

The final showcase approached quickly, and dinner a few days before found Archie sitting unusually quiet. The Pussycats had gone about 10 minutes earlier to practice their parts for the performance. Betty and Jughead stared at each other, unspoken questions about their normally bubbly friend sitting silently. Jughead tilted his head towards the other boy, trying to indicate that Betty should ask the question sitting on her lips. She closed her eyes briefly. 

“Hey, Arch?” She leaned in, speaking quietly. “Are you okay?”

He gulped, looking up as if just realizing they were sitting in front of him. 

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Jughead’s brow furrowed. 

He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do it…” 

“Can’t do what, Archie?” Betty soothed. 

“I can’t perform. On a stage, like that? What if I choke?” he looked pale. “All those people staring at me?”

Jughead almost wanted to laugh. To imagine that Archie, the unflappable social butterfly, having stage fright just seemed absurd. But then he realized his new friend was serious. He looked at Betty, unsure of what to do.

Betty put her hand gently on top of his. “Then just look at me and Jug. We’ll be sitting right in the front row. Just look at us, and play like it’s just the two of us. You won’t be up there alone, it’ll be okay.”

Jughead smiled. “Yeah, man. I’ll be the one hooting and hollering like a banshee for you. Plus, Valerie is playing with you. She won’t let you choke, man.” 

Archie looked at them, seeming to steel himself. “Thanks, guys.” He paused. “Really.” 

 

That evening, Betty insisted on taking a picture of the three of them, laughing at Jughead’s refusal to smile. 

 

Alice Cooper arrived early to the showcase. Betty flexed her feet in her toe shoes. Polly smiled warmly at her from a few yards away. 

Fred Andrews was right on time, sliding in the back just before the doors closed. 

FP Jones was nearly an hour late to pick Jughead up, long after Betty and Archie and the rest of them had left. Betty had insisted they give her their addresses, so she could write to them. Jughead tried not to be sad when she walked away after a lingering hug.

 

When he got home, Jughead immediately went to the studio where he and his best friend, Toni Topaz, cleaned in exchange for lessons from the stern instructor who just told them to call him Mustang. Mustang had given Toni lessons, even calling in some other dance style instructors, when he found her crying behind the studio after Jughead told her she was going to camp. She had tried to ask her mom, but the woman was drunk and had just laughed at Toni, slopping beer over the forms and telling her she would never be good enough to go to a camp like that. Jughead found Toni and hugged her for a long time, telling her all about camp and the people he had met. 

She tried not to be jealous, and felt her heart warm for him whenever he mentioned Betty Cooper’s name. Toni knew Jughead well enough to know that he was thinking he would never be good enough for the Hitchcock blonde ballerina. Silently, she prayed to whatever god might be listening to her that this Betty knew just how good Jughead really was. 


	2. Summer 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go back to camp.

Mustang had to drive Jughead to camp in an ancient pick up truck the next summer. FP was “cooling his heels” in jail over night and wouldn’t be out in time to get his son to camp before registration closed. Mustang asked if Toni wanted to come along for the ride, but she said she was going to hang with Sweet Pea and Jaquan at the drive-in theatre. Jughead smiled sadly at her, shouldering his messenger bag. She gave him a quick hug, reminding him not to worry about her. She told Mustang she’d see him at the studio on Monday. They had to leave pretty early to get there on time, and Jughead fell asleep on the drive over, lulled to sleep by the gentle shaking of the road under him and his lack of sleep the night before. 

Jughead checked himself in around 1:00, finding his room on the second floor. He knew Archie would be his roommate again, and they had IM’d the previous week to talk about it. Archie said he’d probably be running kind of late. He was just saying goodbye to Mustang as the Andrew’s red pick up coughed into the parking lot. It looked about as old as Mustang’s truck. Jughead suddenly felt a strange rush of affection for his friend. 

“Alright. Tell Toni I miss her already?” Jughead felt a twinge of guilt having left his best friend behind again. 

“I will, kid. Learn a lot. I expect to see a significant improvement by the end of the summer.” Mustang voice had a hint of a laugh, belying the stern look on his face. 

Jughead slammed the door shut, nodding to his dance instructor, who had promised to contact him to let him know who would be picking him up. He started to walk back towards the dorm, passing the Andrew’s vehicle. Archie was pulling his guitar case out of the back seat and his dad was pulling a duffel out of the bed. 

“Hey Jug!” Archie called. 

Jughead grinned, his signature, barely-there twitch of the lips. “Hey Arch, how’s it going?”

“Was that your dad?” Archie asked, nodding in the direction Mustang had driven. 

Jughead nearly tripped over his feet. “Oh. No, that was my dance instructor. My dad, uh…something came up last minute and he had to take care of something. So.” 

Archie nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Hi, Mr. Andrews.” Jughead changed the track of the conversation abruptly. 

“Please, Jughead. Fred. How was your year?” the older man’s smile was broad, like his son’s.

“Oh, you know. School’s school.” Jughead shrugged. 

“Where do you live, again?” Mr. Andrews asked as they started walking toward the dorm and registration. 

“He lives in New York City, Dad! Isn’t that awesome?” Archie interjected, answering for Jughead. “Do you live near NYU?”

Jughead choked back a laugh. “Not even close. Try the other side of the city.” 

 

At the introductory meeting, Jughead and Archie found seats near the back of the room, saving one for Betty who was, no doubt, being lectured by her mother. They nodded and waved to familiar faces, greeting the Pussycats when they walked in together. 

“Betty’s upstairs,” Valerie supplied without either boy asking, “I heard her mom talking to her and her sister in our room. I was gonna get her, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Her mom is kind of scary…” 

Jughead furrowed his brow. He would never tell Betty, but her mom was way past scary and into dangerous. 

“Anyway, see you boys at dinner!” Josie said with a smile. Valerie’s hand lingered on Archie’s arm a second longer than perhaps necessary. 

Jughead stared at the doorway, willing Betty’s blonde ponytail to appear. Just as the door started to close, Betty and her older sister slid in, momentarily breathless. They both scanned the room. When Betty caught Jughead’s eye, she smiled. He elbowed the red haired boy next to him, who waved to Betty as well, indicating the empty seat next to Jughead. Jughead felt breathless. She was wearing a pastel pink skirt, pink flats, and a white collared shirt, with a pale blue sweater. She looked like a candy shop. His clothes seemed dingier than usual in comparison. 

Smiling, with her green eyes alight, she slid delicately into the seat next to Jughead. He briefly noted that she seemed, if anything, thinner than the previous summer, but pushed it out of his mind in favor of greeting her with a hug. Then she leaned across him to squeeze Archie’s hand as the head of the camp started speaking. He was overtaken by the smell of her flowery shampoo. She stayed very close to him the entire meeting, concentration becoming difficult. 

The meeting passed in a blur until they were all standing up to follow their counselors up the stairs. 

“See you at dinner” Betty smiled, squeezing Jughead’s hand. He smiled back, really smiled. 

 

Upstairs, Jughead followed the counselor down the hallway, until the young man, an actor at some conservatory down south named Scott, stopped in the middle of their section of rooms. Jughead slid down the wall, lounging next to Archie. He kept one leg bent up to his chest and the other extended in front of him. Jason Blossom, a snooty actor with ghost white skin and dark red hair, from Rhode Island, stepped over his outstretched leg with a sneer. 

“I’m frankly shocked they let you back here, trash.” Jason curled his lip at Jughead. 

Archie started, but Jughead put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, pushing the freckled boy back against the wall. 

“He’s not worth it, Archie. You can’t hit boys like him. They press charges.” He snarled, just loud enough for Jason to hear. 

Jason jerked back a moment, and crossed the hallway. He sat right next to the counselor, but the older boy seemed largely unimpressed with the snobbish young actor. Archie just shook his head. Jughead tried to ignore the voice of his mother in his head. You’ll never be worth anything, Jughead. You’re just like your father. The last words she’d said before she pulled his crying sister out the door by her arm and left for the last time. He knew people like Jason and Cheryl, and probably a lot of other people at this camp, anyone who knew he was on a scholarship, thought he was trash. He knew, too, that they were probably right. But he was just here to dance. To try to become something. Anything other than his father. 

Luckily, they all knew each other, so the introductory part went fairly quickly. Scott explained that, while they’d still be in a group with first year campers, they’d definitely be put to a much higher challenge. A lot more was going to be expected of them. Jughead would have to take even more different dance classes - twice a week instead of once. He could practically feel Betty cringing. The end of summer showcase would be used to decide whether they could come back next year. Letters would be sent out sometime around mid-September. Though Jughead knew this, he still felt his stomach clench slightly. 

Archie, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. A small circle of panic settled on his chest, and he gulped. He’d barely gotten through the last showcase without vomiting. He felt Jughead nudge him with a shoulder, and the circle lessened a little. He tried to follow his dad’s suggestion – don’t go borrowing trouble. He had two months to stress out about that, and he didn’t need to worry before it was time. 

Finally, Scott handed them their schedules for the week and told them they could just relax until dinner at 5:30, but to stay on the hall. Jughead and Archie went into their room, propping the door open with an unused desk chair.   
They lounged quietly for a while, settling into a companionable silence. 

Then Jughead spoke. “Wonder what’s for dinner…”

Archie laughed, tossing his pillow at the dark haired boy who had taken his beanie off to run his fingers through his hair. “Do you think about anything other than food, Jug?”

Jughead sat up, throwing the pillow back. “I think about sleep. And dancing.” And Betty, his brain supplied unhelpfully. He didn’t say that part aloud. 

Archie rolled his eyes. “Did you see the way Valerie looked at me earlier?” His eyes lit up with excitement. 

Again, Jughead suppressed a chuckle. Archie was just so damn…pure. Boy next door. “Yeah, man. Anyone with eyes could have seen that. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you.” 

Archie fluffed his hair self-consciously. “I’ve been working out. Do you think she noticed?”

At that, Jughead finally laughed out loud. “Almost certainly, bro. Almost certainly.” 

Archie huffed, cringing. 

Companionable silence took over the room again, and Jughead pulled his beanie back over his dark curls. He thought that he really should have had Toni cut his hair before he left, but he supposed it would have to do. He wondered if Betty noticed him the way Valerie seemed to notice Archie. 

As if reading his mind, Archie spoke to the ceiling. “Did it look like Betty got thinner?”

Jughead sat up abruptly. After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, a bit.”

“She’s so skinny. Is that normal? For dancers?” Archie sat up, too. Concern laced his voice. 

Scratching his arm, Jughead thought for a moment. “I mean, I don’t know? Hip hop dancers are usually thicker, I guess? Lots of modern dancers are pretty slender…” He paused, tugging at a loose thread on his flannel. “I don’t really know a lot of ballet dancers, though. I mean, she’s really strong, you know? She has to be.” He wasn’t sure he believed his own words, let alone that they were convincing the boy across the room from him. 

Archie just stared at him. 

“You know she’s never had cake?” Jughead said with a small laugh. 

“What!?” Archie gaped. 

“Yeah, apparently Alice doesn’t allow it. She’s pretty strict about it.” Jughead shrugged, suddenly wondering if he was supposed to keep that a secret. Betty had told him after he wrote her, telling her about the cake Toni made for him for his birthday in October.   
Betty had been furious that Jughead hadn’t told her his birthday was coming up, and sent him a small package with 3 green birthday candles. He had put them in a locked box in his closet. 

Archie shook his head. “Betty’s mom is crazy. We gotta get her to try some cake this summer.”

Jughead squinted. He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. But, since he couldn’t figure out why, he just shrugged. “Not tonight, man.”

“Oh, no. But before the summer is over.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” Jughead agreed. In the back of his mind, he thought of the little notebook Betty kept in her dance bag, catalogue everything she ate. He wondered if that was Alice’s idea, too.

There was movement in the hallway. Archie looked at his watch. “Speaking of cake, it’s nearly dinnertime!” 

That jerked Jughead out of his reverie, and he shot out of bed. He pulled his boots back on, straightened his beanie on his head, and then stood, tapping his foot as he waited for Archie to tie the laces on his sneakers. They met Betty on the steps leading out of the dorm and walked down the sidewalk. 

 

The summer sank into a steady routine. Archie and Valerie flirted with each other at every possible opportunity. Jughead was breathless every time he saw Betty dance, and Betty tried not to blush whenever they had hip hop lessons and Jughead’s muscles gleamed with sweat. Cheryl and Jason continued to look down their noses at everyone they met, kissing up to instructors at every turn. Jughead tried not to think about his father, who would probably get into some other stupid trouble, or drink himself into a stupor so deep that Mustang would be the one to pick Jughead up at the end of the summer. Betty tried not to think about her mother, the calories adding up in her book, the inches of her waist, how Alice would hiss into her ear at the end of the summer that it isn’t good enough, Elizabeth. You can do better than that. Archie tried not to think about the end of summer at all, the showcase looming in the horizon. He tried to ignore the anxiety pacing in his chest like an angry cat, throwing himself into the music and flirting shamelessly with Valerie. 

At the beginning of July, the cafeteria made red, white, and blue cupcakes at lunch one Saturday afternoon. Archie prodded Betty. 

“You should get one! They have star sprinkles!” he pointed at the miniature cakes.

She stuttered for a moment. “Oh. Uhm. Well. Uh. My mom says cake is really bad for me.”

Just at that moment, Polly walked up behind them. “Come on, Betty Bop! It’s one cupcake. What Alice doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She winked at her younger sister. 

The notebook tucked away in her dance bag weighed in her mind like lead. Betty looked at Jughead, standing silently next to her, his usual double serving of dessert already on his tray. The cupcakes did look really pretty. Betty gulped. Then, surveying the tray of sweets, she picked the smallest one available, a yellow cake with bright red icing, swirled with white. She put it gingerly on her tray and straightened her shoulders. If Polly could eat cake without telling Alice, so could Betty. 

They sat down with Valerie, Melody, and Josie, who each had a cupcake on her tray. Polly sat just one table away – not her normal seat, but she just glared at Chuck when he tried to ask her about it, keeping one eye on her sister. 

“Is that…dessert, on your tray, Betty?” Melody gasped, pointing at the cupcake. 

“Uh, yeah…” Betty tried to laugh. “Archie and Jug apparently think it’s sacrilege that I’ve never had cake before.” She shrugged. 

Josie’s jaw dropped. “You’ve never had cake? Ever?” She looked at Archie and Jughead accusingly. “And this is what you give her? Cafeteria cupcakes?” She shook her head. 

“Well, it’s what we have. Chill out.” Archie shot Josie a look. 

Josie threw her hands up in front of her. “I surrender, Andrews.”

Quietly, the group ate lunch. When Melody started to eat her cupcake, she scraped the icing off onto her plate. Betty stared at her. Jughead just stuffed the first one in his mouth, whole. 

“Why are you taking the icing off?” Betty asked Melody, hoping she didn’t sound suspicious. 

Melody chuckled. “Try a taste of it. It’s nasty. Pure sugar and food coloring. I have no idea how this buffoon eats so much of it and stays so fit.” She gestured at Jughead, who had blue icing on the tip of his pointed nose. 

Betty giggled, secretly thinking that Jughead looked adorable, if a bit silly. Jughead smiled, his cheeks chipmunked out with cupcake, and shrugged. 

“What can I say,” he said, finally swallowing the cupcake. “I like sweet things.” He winked, his bright blue eyes flashing. 

Betty almost choked. To cover her blush, she dipped her pointer finger in the red icing, getting the smallest amount on the tip of her finger. She smelled it first, almost assaulted by how sugary it was. Betty didn’t realize, but Polly and Jughead were both staring at her, trepidation building in both of their chests. 

She stuck the finger in her mouth, sucking the icing off. 

Jughead almost choked. 

Betty grimaced. “Oh god. That’s just…that’s awful.”

Josie nodded, scraping the icing off her own cupcake. “Yeah, it’s…it isn’t good.”

Slightly relieved, Betty scraped the rest of the icing off her cupcake. Polly breathed in sharply, straining to hear the conversation at her sister’s table, completely ignoring her own friends. Betty looked at the bare cupcake in front her and almost ran out of the room screaming. She clenched her fist under the table, feeling her nails dig in. Jughead quietly reached for her hand, hoping no one would notice. He uncurled her fist and squeezed her hand briefly. Betty let out a breath. It was one cupcake. She could do this. She would just…practice extra hard after. It would be fine. With a short squeeze of Jughead’s hand, she let go and peeled the wrapper off of the vanilla cake. 

She closed her eyes and took a bite. And then another. She chewed slowly, letting the sweetness coat her tongue, smelling the vanilla and the sugar. Alice didn’t even keep sugar in the house. She took the last bite, savoring it, eyes wide. When she swallowed, the entire table let out a collective breath. At the next table, Polly kept hers a little longer.

She looked up. 

Archie was staring at her from across the table, expectant. “Well…?” he asked, finally.

“It’s pretty good. Yeah.” She smiled, trying not to think about the way it coated her tongue. She took a long sip of water. “It’s really sweet, though. You know?” 

Jughead laughed. “It’s cake, Betts. It’s supposed to be sweet.”

She just smiled. His hand stayed on her upper leg, and instead of clenching her fist, she placed her hand on top of his. Betty looked past Archie and caught her sister’s eye. Briefly, Betty nodded, and Polly nodded back. It would be okay. Hopefully. 

 

After lunch, the group headed back to the dorm, the Pussycats filing into Josie and Melody’s room. Valerie had insisted on rooming with Betty again, but she did still spend a lot of time with Josie and Melody. Late one night 2 weeks ago, Valerie had confessed to Betty that sometimes, she was overwhelmed with Josie’s energy, and needed the break. As Betty walked past them towards her own dorm, Melody turned around. 

“You wanna hang out, Betty?”

Betty paused mid-step. “Oh. Ah, no. I’m kinda tired. I think I’m gonna rest a bit.”

“Alright. See you later for a movie?” Melody smiled. 

“Yeah.” Betty forced the smile. 

When Betty was back in the safety of her own room, she sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled out her notebook. She filled in the entry for lunch, counting her salad with grilled chicken and exactly a quarter cup of oil and vinegar and two glasses of water. Her pen hesitated over the next line, her tongue still tasting the cupcake in her mouth. She slammed the notebook shut, tossing it down on the bed. Betty ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth with more force than absolutely necessary. She briefly thought about trying to…no. No, she thought, looking at the toilet accusingly. She would never. She put the toothbrush down and clung to the edge of the sink, tears threatening to fall. Her mother would kill her, she should never have done that. What was she thinking? 

With an abrupt turn, Betty walked back out of the bathroom, pulling off her pale yellow top. She would go to the studio and practice that sequence she couldn’t figure out for the modern class. Practice until it was perfect. She changed into the “appropriate” clothes, grabbing her dance bag and checking for her water bottle. She glared at the small notebook on her bed, and left it there, turning to leave. Briefly, Betty considered telling the Pussycats where she was going, but changed her mind. She didn’t want anyone to offer to come with her. 

Finding an empty studio (some older students were practicing for the showcase), Betty found the CD with the class music. The instructors left them there on purpose, in case of students wanted extra practice. She turned it on, starting the choreography. A half hour later, she felt like a failure. She sat on the floor, fists clenched. 

 

Across the quad, Jughead knocked quietly on Betty’s dorm door. The Pussycats had told them Betty was napping when they came to their room to hang out. Jughead escaped out the door as Archie was pulling out his guitar, telling the room at large he was going to check on the blonde girl. When no one responded to his knocking, he pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked. He looked, Betty wasn’t there. Her tiny notebook was on the bed. Jughead reached to pick it up, but stopped at the last minute – it wasn’t his business, that wasn’t fair. And anyway, usually the notebook was in her dance bag. Where was her dance bag? When he looked around and couldn’t find it, he realized where she was – the studio, probably pushing herself too hard. Alone. He knew what that felt like, trying to out-dance the chants of Worthless, Jughead. Worthless. You’ll never be anything, Jones. Just like your father, Jones running through his head. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and made his way to the studio building, not bothering to tell Archie or anyone else where he was going. 

He peeked into the windows of all the studios until he found the one with Betty in it. The Hitchcock blonde sat on her knees in the middle of the floor, head hanging down, eyes tightly shut, fists clenched. The music for the modern class slid out the cracks in the door faintly. Jughead pushed the door open, gently, hoping not to startle Betty too much. She looked up when he entered the threshold, letting the door shut behind him. 

“Whatcha doin’, Betts?” He asked quietly. Giving her the chance to lie. 

She huffed out a sad laugh. “Failing?”

The thing about Betty, it seemed, is that she was always honest. Even when it hurt. Jughead felt his heart in his throat. “You’re not failing, Betts.” He crossed to her, sitting in front of here

“I just…I can’t dance like this, Juggie. I don’t know how. I’m a failure.” Betty brought her hands up to her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the flow of tears. “I’m never going to be able to move like you.” She muttered through her hands. 

“What?” Jughead frowned, scrunching his eyebrows. “Betty, you’re one of the best ballerinas in this entire camp. So what if you can’t move the way I do? I don’t have a prayer of moving the way you do. The things you can do with your body genuinely ought not be possible.” He gently pulled her hands away from her face, holding them in his. 

She sniffed, shaking her head. 

“Would it help if…” Jughead took a deep breath. “Would it help if I showed you?”

Betty looked up, finally. Her green eyes were rimmed red. “You would do that?”

“Anything for you, Betty Cooper.” Jughead grinned, pushing himself off the floor and offering her his hand. She took it. 

Betty stood, wiping her hands on the front of her tank top. Jughead wondered if those tank tops were going to be the death of him, with the complicated zig-zag of straps and flowing fabric. He went to the CD player, pausing the song and starting it over. 

“Show me what you have, so far.” He gestured to the floor in front of him. 

Betty gulped, turning sort of red. She’d had one-on-one instruction, but the instructors had never been beautiful 15-year-old boys with ocean blue eyes and one curl falling perfectly from under their beanies. Be professional, Cooper, she admonished herself. Jughead started the music, and she started to move. She knew it was too stiff. She was pretty sure it would always be too stiff. Then came this part where she basically had to throw herself onto the ground, twisting. She always fell. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be boneless, or whatever it was the instructor said. 

Just before she tripped and hit the ground, Jughead caught her, cradling her shoulders in his arms. Betty’s eyes flew open, gasping. She quickly righted herself, sitting on the hardwood floor. Her cheeks prickled with embarrassment. 

“It's good, Betty.” Jughead gave her an encouraging smile. She just glared at him. “It is, Betts. I wouldn't lie to you.” 

“I fell, Jughead. Every time, I fall. I can't slouch the way I'm supposed to. I can't do this.” She pushed her hands against her eyes.

The taller boy gently took hold of her wrists, pulling her to her feet. She stood, watching him. He went back to the CD player, and started the song again. Quickly, he moved behind her. Gently, he put his hands on her hips. Betty started momentarily. 

“Just dance, Betts,” Jughead’s voice soothed into her ear, and she started the choreography. 

Looking into the mirror, Betty watched the way she and Jughead moved together. He always kept one hand on her - her hip, her arm, her waist - altering the dance so he could dance with her. Not next to her, with her. Then when it came time for Betty to spin and fall, he slid out in front of her, making it look effortless. She took the one step back and the froze. 

Jughead cocked one eyebrow, moving to turn the music off. 

Betty rubbed the back of her neck. “I just...I can't fall like that. I'm not meant to fall like that!” 

Jughead chuckled slightly. 

“Don't laugh!” Betty cried, throwing her hands up. 

“I'm not laughing at you, Betty.” Jughead shook his head. “It's just...you can dance on your literal toes. Until they bleed. Literally. I've seen ballet dancer’s feet. I’ve seen your feet.” He pointed to her bare feet on the wooden floor. “I know. You can spin on one toe and make it look like nothing. You trust near strangers to throw you into the air. Why is trusting your own arms to catch you before you hit the floor so hard?”

Betty gaped at him. “I just…” 

Jughead took her hands again. “Do you trust me, Betty?” 

Wordlessly, she nodded. 

He nodded back. “Okay. Forget the music. Forget the dance, the class, the instructor. Just…” He took a deep breath. “Just focus on me, Betty.” 

With his hands on her shoulders, Jughead turned Betty facing away from him and stood out from her. He counted for her, “5, 6, 7, 8, 1, 2, 3, 4,” waiting for her. Betty took a breath, steadying her racing heart. With one step back and a spin on her forward leg, she forced herself to fall. 

When Jughead caught her, Betty gasped quietly. His arms were solid, safe. She was mere inches from the ground, and she put her hands out, pushing up. She sat back on her heels, and Jughead crouched down in front of her. 

“Why do you cross your arms like that?” He asked, crossing his own arms in front of his chest to demonstrate. 

Betty giggled. “It's simple aerodynamics, Juggie. You spin faster and longer like that.” 

“Right, but…” 

“But I don't need to spin fast or long.” Betty shrugged, shaking her head a little. “I know. But I start a spin and my arms just…” She gestured, pulling them into her chest. “It’s muscle memory. I'm not used to spinning AT the ground.” 

Jughead smiled “Wanna try again?” 

Betty shrugged, standing up and moving back into position. Jughead counted again, and this time, Betty forced her hands to stay by her sides. She knew they were too stiff, but they weren’t crossed across her chest. 

Jughead caught her again, and again she felt her breath catch in her chest. This time, she pushed back up to standing. 

With a slight squint, Jughead smiled. “I want to try something. Can we try?”

Betty raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “Try what, Jughead?”

“Keep your arms crossed when you fall. I’ll catch you, don’t worry.”

“But that’s not how…”

“How the choreo works. I know. Ignore the choreo for like, five minutes, Betts. No one’s gonna care.” His smile was bright, and he winked at her. 

Betty found herself agreeing without realizing it. Jughead started the music and began dancing with her, again. Just before the fall, as Betty took the step forward, Jughead held on to her arm, gliding his fingers down the length of it. She turned her face to look at him, and he winked again. He slid across the floor as she stepped back again, crossing her arms and spinning into the fall. He caught her by the shoulders, his hands on hers. 

“Betty!” Jughead cheered over the music, once they stood up again. “That was practically flawless!”

Betty felt herself grinning broadly, glowing in his compliment. He went to pause the music, spinning to face her. 

“We just have to figure out the transition from that to the next step.” Jughead grinned. 

Betty frowned slightly. “But...won’t the instructor be upset that we changed it?”

Jughead chuckled again. “Betts. The instructor knows I’m not great at following choreo. And that you hate that fall. She won’t care at all.”

“Okay.” Betty shrugged. “So, Mr. Jones. What do we do?” 

Jughead sat on the floor, all flopping casual elegance. Betty sat down across from him, stretching her legs in front of her, spine ramrod straight. For a moment, Jughead contemplated the next movement - they were meant to land, arms extended, chest facing the floor, then slide one leg forward and push themselves into standing, sliding the back leg up with them, chest back and arms extended. Betty’s movement would be simpler, just put her arms out and get up normally. Jughead would have to find a way to turn and slide up in time, fluidly. 

Wordlessly, the dark haired boy pushed his errant curl back under his beanie and stood up. He turned the music back on, swaying in time to the music until the beat where he was meant to be falling. He slid out, dragging one arm behind him - the arm that would be tracing along Betty’s arm. Betty felt goosebumps shiver up her spine, traveling down her arms, when she thought of his fingertips caressing her skin. She shook her head, focusing. When Jughead crouched, he stuck his right leg out behind him, waiting a beat - that was where Betty would fall and he would catch her. Then he pushed his hands into the ground, turning low to the ground to face the right way, narrow chest expanding and left arm sliding forward to follow his movement. Then he smiled.   
He reached his hand out to Betty, which she took gratefully. They practiced the movement first without music, and then again, twice, to the music. Then they did the entire dance to that point - the entirety of what they’d been taught by the instructor to that point. Betty finished it without falling once. Jughead hugged her tight when they finished. 

“Now, if you could just teach me to piroet, we’d be in great shape.” He laughed, pulling back from the hug regretfully. 

Betty couldn’t help but notice that she missed Jughead’s arms wrapped around her when they were gone. “Oh, Juggie,” she laughed, ignoring the feeling. “It’s not that hard!” 

With a shake of her blonde ponytail, Betty went into first position and up on her toes. Her head whipped around, arms in a wide arc in front of her. She spun three times across the floor, leg extended when she was done. She put her feet flat on the floor, and Jughead noticed her eyes were shining. 

“I doubt, Miss Cooper, that I will ever look that good.” Jughead tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face. 

Together, they walked back to the dorms, and Betty pushed the forbidden cupcake from her mind.

 

Tuesday rolled around, their combined modern class. The instructor watched them with a small smile, watching Jughead catch the blonde ballerina with a look of intense focus on his narrow face. Betty looked up at her expectantly. 

“Excellent work, Miss Cooper.” the instructor said with a nod. 

The smile that flew across Betty’s face made Jughead’s heart skip a beat. 

 

By the end of the summer, Jughead’s ballet was much more skillful, but he still complained about not being allowed to wear his boots. The modern instructor taught them another few sequences for the routine. The final movement was fairly simple - lean as far back as you could on one foot, then push forward, landing with the other foot, and end bent in half over the front foot by the waist. Without even thinking, Jughead caught Betty on the way back, guiding her back up. Betty leaned, almost on instinct, into the pressure of Jughead’s hands. 

The week before the showcase, Scott came to Jughead’s dorm just before bedtime. “Hey, Jughead. There was a message for you from the front desk. Some guy...uh, Mustang? Anyway, he said your dad had to go away on business last minute and he’d be here to pick you up?”

Jughead, who had looked up when Scott knocked on the door, nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, Scott.” He didn’t look the counselor or his roommate in the eye.

Archie opened his mouth to ask about it, but shut his mouth with a snap when he saw the cloudy look in Jughead’s eyes.

The final showcase rolled around, and Betty taught Archie some breathing exercises she’d read about to calm down. In secret, Jughead and Betty asked Polly and Chuck to get them some poster board and markers from a store in town, and made posters for Archie while he was practicing with the Pussycats. They hid them under Betty’s bed, smiling at each other. The two of them danced with their own classes in the showcase. Jughead caught Betty when she ran off the stage, lifting her up and spinning her around. 

“You did great, Betts!” He whispered into her temple.

“You were even better, Juggie.” She smiled, gleeful. 

“Move, peasants.” Cheryl and Jason walked by, the former growling at them and the latter just snarling his lip at them. 

Suddenly embarrassed, the pair separated quickly. Gesturing towards the direction of the changing rooms, Betty ran to pull off her leotard and tutu and put a skirt and sweater on. She grabbed the posters and ran out to find Jughead saving her a seat in the crowd. After the actors did their showcase presentation, the musicians set up on stage. Archie peered out into the audience, and Jughead and Betty started jumping up and down and cheering, waving their posters in the air. 

 

After the showcase, Betty’s mother grabbed her by the shoulder, a grip that would leave fingerprint bruises for a week after, that Betty hid with a sweater.

“Who is that boy you were making a fool of yourself with?” Alice snarled into Betty's ear, a forced smile on her face. 

Betty sighed internally, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “His name is Jughead, Mother. He's a dancer.” 

“I don't want you associating with people like him. You don't need to be distracted.”

“People like him!? What is that supposed to mean? He's my friend, Mother.” Betty took a step back. 

Suddenly, a crowd of people started to walk by, and Alice stepped back as well. She smiled at Betty, a smile that clearly said “This isn't over.” 

 

After the showcase, Archie’s dad clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smile etching out space among his wrinkles. 

“You did great, Arch.” Fred said, gruffly. “Jughead and Betty showed me their posters.”

Archie grinned to himself. “Yeah. They're good people.”


	3. Summer 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camp happens again. Drama is happening, still. Always. Such dramatics.

The night before he left for camp, Jughead was sitting outside the dance studio in Red Hook, leaning against the worn brick wall and frowning. 

“Come on, guys. We don’t  _ have _ to do anything at all.” He pleaded with his friends.

“Easy for you to say, Jones. You’re leaving tomorrow for like three months. What are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Sweet Pea, who had spent most of high school shooting upward until he was a clear foot taller than Toni, scowled at Jughead. 

“Two and a half…” Jughead muttered. 

“It’s not exactly like it’s high on my priority list,” Fangs fiddled with the rings adorning most of his fingers, “But Mateo keeps asking me when I’m gonna join up.” His older brother had been a full-fledged Serpent for two years now, wearing the tattoo like a badge of honor.

“It’s not like they’re asking us to join some after school club!” Jughead cried, frustrated. “It’s a fucking GANG, they should want better for us!”

“They want us to protect our families…” Toni spoke, soft, even. 

Jughead looked at his best friend. They’d known each other since they were in diapers, she knew him better than he knew himself. Everyone thought they’d end up together, until Toni was caught making out with some red haired girl in the school bathroom freshman year. Jughead had helped her clean the gash on her cheek when her mom smacked her across the face and kicked her out. 

“What’s your grandfather think?” He asked, sure the old man would talk sense. 

“I mean, he was a founding member, Jug.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t necessarily think it’s the best idea, but…” 

“We’re in high school.” He practically whispered. 

“The Serpents are the only family I’ve got left.” Sweet Pea shot, defiant. He had two little sisters and a sick mom to protect.

Jughead stood up to his full height, still barely clearing Sweet Pea’s line of vision, and straightened his beanie, a constant in spite of the near-oppressive heat. “You’ve got us.” He narrowed his eyes.

“FP keeps asking about you, though, man. Wants you to take over for him.” Fangs’ voice was smooth, tinted with concern and a hint of amusement.

“He knows where to find me. He’s the one who left.” Jughead frowned at the dusty, torn up sidewalk. 

“Right, but…” 

A car alarm started to blare, and the sun was going down. Toni spoke up again. “Guys, we gotta go.”

Sweet Pea pushed himself off the wall with a lazy grace and lit a cigarette. Fangs pulled it out of his mouth and crushed it under his boot. The taller boy scowled but made no comment. Jughead slung his bag over his shoulder and they started walking. Just outside their building, he paused, looking at the graffitied wall and the weeds pushing up from the cracks in the foundation. 

“Just...promise me you won’t do anything until I come back, yeah?” He was practically pleading, but he looked them all in the eye, one by one. 

Fangs nodded immediately, and then shoved Sweet Pea in the arm. The taller boy pushed his hand through his hair, sighed, and then nodded. 

With an ironic smirk, he muttered, “No Serpent stands alone, right?”

Jughead rolled his eyes, but nodded. 

“Together, or not at all.” Toni said with an air of finality. 

They walked into the building.

 

The next morning, Jughead didn’t even bother to wait for his dad to show up. Mustang had lent him the keys to his truck, squeezed his shoulder, and apologized for not being able to make it. Jughead had considered taking his bike, but it would be near impossible to carry all his stuff on a motorcycle, so he had enlisted the help of Fangs’ older brother, who was the only one who actually had a license to drive a car, and met the two tired looking teens in the alley next to their building. Fangs fell back asleep almost immediately in the back seat, until they made their way out of the city, and Jughead paid for gas and bought breakfast and coffee, and then he reached forward for the aux cable. Mateo only complained a little bit, but it fell flat when he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music.

When they finally got to the university where the camp was held, Mateo let out a low whistle. “Moving up in the world, little Jones.” 

Jughead squinted his eyes into the bright summer sun. “Don’t call me that, man.”

He clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do they teach you ballet here? Gonna go to Julliard?” His voice was laughing. 

An old red pick up pulled into the parking lot next to them and Jughead felt a rush of gratitude. Archie tripped out of the driver’s seat as soon as it was parked, and Fred pushed the passenger’s seat open looking a little shaken. 

“Jug!” Archie cried. “Hey!”

Fangs’ eyebrows arched and he looked between the redhead and his dark haired friend. 

“Hey Arch,” Jughead greeted, much calmer. “You let him drive, Fred? You sure that was smart?”

“I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life, son.” Fred’s smile was easy, face a little more worn around the edges. He looked at Mateo and Fangs with the same smooth, friendly smile. “Are these your friends? Family?”

Jughead started. “Oh!” He looked at Fangs, who looked startled at being addressed at all, and Mateo, who looked suspicious. “Uh, Archie, Fred, this is one of my best friends Fangs, and his brother Mateo. Mateo, Fangs, this is my roommate, and, uh, my friend, Archie, and his dad.”

Archie leaned over, hand extended. Fangs took it, looking confused. “Hey man, how’s it going?” 

Fangs looked down at the cheerful boy like he had six heads. “Uh, pretty good?”

Fred reached over and shook Fangs’ hand next, “Nice to meet you both,” and then Mateo’s. Mateo just nodded. “Would you boys like to come to lunch with us? My treat, there’s this really great diner just in town.” He offered, genuine. Jughead cringed internally. 

Fangs lit up a little, leaning forward. Mateo clasped his brother’s shoulder. “We’ve got to head back pretty quickly, Mustang needs his truck back.”

Strictly speaking, that was probably true, but Mustang hadn’t actually given them a time limit. Fangs looked like he was about to say something to that effect, but the grip on his shoulder tightened and he just grimaced.

“Alright, maybe next time.” Fred answered, easy. “Alright, Archie. Shake a leg, let’s go. I’d like to get home before tomorrow.” 

Archie started, and then pulled his guitar out of the back seat of the truck. Jughead watched Fangs’ eyes follow the instrument, knowing how long he had made Sweet Pea stay with him while he stared at the guitar in the window of the pawn shop down the street from their apartment building. With a slight sigh, he turned to their truck and pulled his duffle out of the bed. Mateo was leaning against the door. Fangs appeared at his elbow. 

“Is that guy serious?” his friend whispered. 

Jughead turned his head slightly. “Huh?”

“Offering to pay for our lunch and shit? Is he serious?”

“Fred?” Jughead blinked. “Yeah, I think he’s just genuinely a nice guy. He buys my lunch every time. It’s almost weird.”

“Man, adults aren’t that nice back home. It’s all ‘get out of my restaurant’ and ‘what do you think you’re doing?’ and this guy wants to buy us lunch without knowing shit about us.” Fangs pulled Jughead’s messenger bag out of the back seat and handed it to him. 

“Trust me, I was just as confused. But he never wants anything in return or anything. Archie’s the same way.”

Fangs’ eyes grew impossibly wider. “Damn.” He slapped Jughead on the shoulder and then shoved his sleeping bag into his arms. “Well, good for you making friends, man.”

Jughead laughed, then turned serious. He dropped his voice. “Watch out for Toni and Pea this summer.”

Fangs shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I think you mean, ‘You and Toni better keep Pea in check this summer,’ Jones.” Jughead scowled slightly. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep him out of trouble until you get back, boss.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Fangs. Call if you need me.” He nodded. They both knew he wouldn’t call. “Thanks for the ride, Mateo.” The older boy barely inclined his head in an approximation of a nod. 

Archie and Fred were waiting for Jughead, and they headed to the dorm building together. Mustang’s truck was gone from the parking lot before they even reached the front doors. Jughead silently hoped Fangs would succeed. 

 

When Betty slid into the opening assembly, alone and eyes wide, Jughead shoved Archie’s arm. The other boy almost fell out of his seat, and looked accusingly at Jughead, ready to be upset that he had been interrupted mid-flirt. Jughead just waved to Betty, gesturing to the open seat next to him. 

“Hi Jug! How’s it going, Archie?” She sounded a little breathless, a little frazzled. 

Jughead squeezed her arm and smiled gently. 

“Where’s Polly?” Archie asked, smile bright and open. 

Betty frowned. “She’s...too old for the camp, Arch.” She laughed slightly. “Last year was her last year. It was like, a whole thing…”

Jughead rolled his eyes. Sometimes, Archie was so freaking oblivious. 

“Oh, duh. Sorry, it’s so weird not to see her with you.”

Betty shrugged, and Jughead noticed the hint of panic in the edges of her eyes. He pushed past the awkward feeling in his limbs and put his arm around her shoulder. When her face softened and she leaned into him, he knew it had been the right choice. He tried to ignore the concerning sharpness to her shoulder blades under his arm. 

“So, how was school?” Betty asked, eyebrows raised. 

Archie launched into this story about a teacher at his school who had skipped town after someone had found out she was sleeping with students. 

“She just was gone one day. It was crazy. Even crazier, she was the music teacher. She offered to give me private lessons, but it was still football season. I told her that I would once the season was over, but I was too busy for anything like that during the actual season. Coach would’ve killed me. Guess I just missed that, huh?”

Betty had jolted up from the comfort of Jughead’s shoulder, but had turned so her knees were pressing into his leg, and his arm had slid down to rest on the back of her seat. 

“She was sleeping with students!?” Betty cried in a whisper.

Archie shrugged. “Apparently. It was all over the paper.”

Jughead leaned forward. “Archie, why are you not more bothered by this? That’s rape.”

“I mean, she was kinda hot. I heard it was consensual.” 

Jughead blinked slowly, trying to process exactly how the redhead’s brain worked. 

“That’s not how consent works!” shock was written across Betty’s face. “She’s an adult! And a teacher! They’re children!”

Archie started to open his mouth again. Jughead cut him off. “What if it was a male teacher sleeping with female students, Arch? Would you feel the same way?”

The redhead opened his mouth again, and then closed it, and a confused look crossed his face. Then he looked disgusted. “Oh fuck…” he whispered. 

Betty and Jughead shared a look, wide eyed and a little relieved. 

“Oh fuck is right, buddy.” Jughead clapped Archie on his back with his free hand. The other boy slid into his seat. 

Then the camp director clapped from the front of the room and Betty turned to face her. After a moment, her blonde head slipped back to Jughead’s shoulder and she burrowed closer to him. With a jolt of self-doubt, a voice in the back of Jughead’s mind told him that he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve her, but he wrapped his arm tighter around her too-thin body and let himself ignore any thoughts of the gang banging down his door back home, of his mom telling him he couldn’t come to Toledo because “you’re too much like FP. He needs you there,” of trying to keep his head above water, food on the table, and his friends out of trouble. For just a few minutes, he let himself be a teenage boy, sitting in a crowded room, listening to a camp director drone on with a speech he’d heard before, with a blonde-haired angel falling asleep on his shoulder. 

  
  


When she got up to her dorm room, after Jughead had softly shaken her awake, she found Val sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone. 

“Hey Val!” She smiled brightly, and the musician looked up. 

“Betty! Hi, how was your year?” 

“Alright, I guess. Busy, mostly. Where’s the counselor?”

Val gestured vaguely towards the hall. “Said something about having to pick up paperwork. We have to sign up for the extra classes this year, instead of doing a little bit of everything, so I guess it takes longer?”

Betty nodded. 

 

Polly had explained it to her in a whisper, in her bright pink bedroom, one night before the end of the school year. The schedules were much more strict for 16 and 17 year olds. Some people, who had more than one emphasis, they’d just split the time directly in half, but Betty could choose an “elective” class to take twice or three times a week. Polly had chosen acting, and Betty had a sinking suspicion it had something to do with her sister’s “friend” Chuck. Betty knew what she wanted to do, thinking of the way she felt, gliding and smooth, in the modern classes the previous summer, and then blushing slightly when she thought of Jughead’s strong arms flexing under the bright studio light. 

“You can, technically, just do all ballet, all day.” Polly had said, cocking her head to the side. “But you should take a modern class, Betty Bop.” 

Betty had gasped, and looked towards her bedroom door. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Betty. The camp won’t tell her, come on. You know you want to. It makes you feel good.” Polly had grabbed her hands, squeezed tight, and smiled in the dim glow of the night light.

Betty had just bit her lip and nodded. 

“Just think about it.” Polly had gently pleaded, eyes bright. 

The next day, on her way to school, Betty had called Jughead’s cell phone, and he answered on the second ring. 

“Hey Betts, what’s up?”

“Hey Juggie. Did you know about the change in schedules for camp this year?”

Jughead had swatted Toni’s arm and glared at her. She had rolled her eyes and walked into the school building, dragging Fangs and Sweet Pea with her. “Yeah, I’m probably gonna split my time. Hip hop in the morning, modern in the afternoon. That’s what my instructors last summer recommended.” 

Betty had felt her stomach clench with uncertainty and a hint of hunger. “What’s Archie gonna do?”

“Hopefully take singing lessons, for all of our sakes.”

That had made Betty laugh. In a rush of breath, she spoke. “I might try to do modern as an elective.”

Suddenly, Jughead had realized the purpose of the phone call. Alice Cooper was under the impression that Betty had been doing all ballet, all day, for the last two summers. Now, Betty had the option of actually doing that, and she was considering directly disobeying her mother. 

“Betts, I think that’s a great idea. You’re getting pretty good at it. Might be better than me soon.”

Betty had heard his smile as she stood outside the school doors, waiting for her friend Kevin. “I highly doubt it, Juggie.”

“What does Polly think?” 

“She says I should do it.”

Jughead had breathed a sigh of relief for Betty’s older sister. “I agree with her. You should do it. Plus, then we’ll be in class together!”

Kevin had shown up, eyes glistening when he realized who Betty was on the phone with, and Jughead had heard the bell ring somewhere inside his over-crowded school building. They agreed to talk later, and Betty mulled over her options while Kevin chattered away about end-of-school-year celebrations.

 

Betty stood in the doorway of her dorm room, chewing the inside of her cheek. She still hadn’t decided what she was going to be doing. Then their counselor, a petite singer with a beautiful electric pink hijab, called them into the hallway to discuss their class schedules. She read off names, and Betty wasn’t really listening to anyone else. Cheryl snootily informed everyone that she would be taking singing lessons, “not that I need them, but Mother thinks it’ll be good for my resume,” in addition to her acting classes. Then the counselor called on Betty.

In a lurch of bravery, with Polly’s bold words and Jughead’s soft smile in her head, Betty requested modern as an elective, two afternoons a week. When the meeting finished and the counselor left to bring the list to the instructors, Betty collapsed on her bed and called Polly. 

“Hey Betty, what’s up?”

“Are you busy?” Betty felt breathless. 

“If you mean, is Alice here, no, she isn’t, and I’m not doing anything.” Polly looked around at the boxes in her room. “Just packing.”

“I signed up for the modern class. Twice a week.” 

Polly’s eyes widened and she sat down, hard, on her unmade bed. “Oh my god, Betty, that’s amazing!”

“It just...it felt right, you know?”

“I’m so proud.”

“Besides, I’m mostly doing ballet still anyway. But it’ll be fun to have a little break.”

“Betty,” Polly soothed, voice soft over the phone line, “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. And Mom won’t find out.”

“I know, I just…”

“Worry too much?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Live a little, little sister. Drink a milkshake, let your hair down, kiss a cute boy.” Polly smiled, teasing. 

“Poll!”

“Sorry, was it something I said?”

“You know I can’t do that!”

“Which thing?”

Betty started to answer, when she heard Val call her name from the doorway. “I gotta go, Poll. I’ll call you later, okay? Good luck packing.”

“Love you, Betty Bop.”

“Love you, too.”

She pocketed her phone, and followed Val to Josie and Melody’s room, and they walked to find Archie and Jughead. 

“Why do you always wear these sweater combos, Betty? And the ponytail, girl!” Josie tugged on the blonde girl’s pale pink sweater sleeve as they waited for Archie to tie his sneaker laces. 

Jughead subtly took in the outfit - grey ankle boots, tight jeans, pink sweater, and some kind of bejeweled collared shirt - and was almost offended that Josie was questioning it. Betty just adjusted her ponytail. 

“My friend Kevin says that my ponytail is iconic and beyond reproach.” She said with a slight blush. 

“Oh Kevin says?” Melody teased. 

“He’s extremely gay and extremely defensive.” Betty shrugged. “Says I look adorable.”

Archie piped up, “He’s the one who writes for your school’s paper, right?” 

Betty nodded. “Yep, son of the sheriff, aspiring journalist, defender of the defenseless.”

“I agree with Kevin.” Jughead suddenly spoke. “The ponytail is nice. Very you.” He felt a little awkward, like he wasn’t sure what he was saying, exactly, but the smile Betty gave him in return made him feel like it was the right thing to say. 

“He once told me I should try to ‘sex it up,’ but then he remembered who my mom is and came to his senses.” Betty shrugged.

Jughead choked a little and Archie’s eyes got wide. Josie just laughed. 

“I can’t imagine you… ‘sexing it up,’ Betty.” Val said, grimacing a little. 

“Trust me, I can’t either. I own more than one pair of overalls.” They joined the line in the cafeteria.

If Jughead secretly thought that Betty was sexy enough in skinny jeans and the thought of her in overalls was making his jeans more than a little uncomfortable, well. He wasn’t going to share that with anyone.

“Besides,” Betty added, grabbing a tray from the stack and carefully searching for the smallest possible chicken breast, “I just have an unusual number of collared shirts. I don’t own a different pair of cat ears for every day of the week, Miss Pussycat.” She smirked at Josie, who looked a little shocked and almost confused. 

“Oh snap!” Archie cried, laughing. 

“Betty Cooper with the burn,” Jughead added. “Need some ice, Josie? I’m sure we can find some for you.” 

“Well, dang, girl.” Josie said, adjusting the aforementioned cat ear headband over her braids, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Betty just smiled demurely. 

They chatted about electives, and school, and nothing in particular. Jughead felt his phone buzz once in his pocket, indicating a text, probably Toni, but ignored it in favor of the feeling of Betty’s knee touching his under the table and his completely full stomach for the first time in a few months. Betty felt a nagging worry in the back of her head that somehow, Alice would find out about her extra dance classes, and cut her chicken into unnecessarily small pieces and pushed her carrots around on the plate. Archie talked loudly, laughing about his singing lessons, and tried not to think about his dad at home alone, sorting through a stack of bills. 

 

By the end of the day on the first day back, Betty was exhausted. Jughead was sitting in the hallway, waiting for her, outside her dance studio when class was over, and she felt like her feet were on fire. He was dripping sweat, and Betty felt like her entire body was on fire when she watched him push his beanie off his head and run his long fingers through dark hair, making it stand up on end. She made a choked coughing sound. He looked up. 

“Betts!” he pulled the beanie back over his wavy hair and groaned as he stood up. “I’m so sore and so exhausted I think I might be dying.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I know exactly what you mean. Polly was not kidding when she said the classes got harder this summer. I think my instructor may have been a drill instructor in a former life. For the Gulag.”

Jughead smiled at that thought, and then pulled Betty’s bag off her shoulder, ignoring her protests, and put it on his own back, swatting her hands away. 

“I know I need to shower, and I’m starving, but I honestly just want to take a nap?” He thought fondly of the AC right next to his bed. 

“Whoa. Jughead Jones wants to sleep instead of eating? You must be pretty tired, Jug.” Betty’s eyes lit up with laughter. 

“The end times are coming.” he drolled. 

“I feel the exact same way, though. But I think if I tried to nap before I shower, I might gross myself out too much to actually sleep.”

Jughead nodded knowingly, trying not to think about the way he surely smelled. “Here’s an idea.” He looked at Betty as she gingerly climbed the steps to their dorm building’s front door. “We’ve got like 45 minutes before dinner. Quick shower, then we nap under that big willow by the cafeteria?”

“On the grass?”

He shrugged. “I think Arch has a picnic blanket of some kind, or I’ll bring my jacket for you to lay on. I don’t much care.” 

Betty giggled. “Alright, you sold me, Jones. Just make sure you tell Archie where we are so the poor puppy doesn’t get confused.”

With a nod of agreement, Jughead dropped Betty’s bag on her bed and started for the door. “Meet me there in like, 15 minutes?”

“Can do.” She said as she headed for the bathroom. 

While she waited for the shower to heat up, Betty tried really hard not to think of Polly’s recommendation to “kiss a cute boy.” Jughead definitely qualified as a cute boy, with his muscular arms and piercing blue eyes. But he probably kissed lots of girls back home. Betty had never been kissed, unless you count an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle at Midge’s 13th birthday party, where she’d been forced to kiss Reggie Mantle before Polly came to rescue her with the old, tried and true, “Alice needs us home,” excuse. He had tasted like Red Bull and was far too aggressive and Betty had brushed her teeth twice as hard that night and vowed to never play Spin the Bottle again. But Jughead...Jughead was probably gentle and definitely didn’t taste like Red Bull. 

She shook her head and stepped into the shower. “Get it together, Cooper. You’re friends. Just really good friends.” 

When she got to the giant willow tree, Jughead was already there, spreading out a red checkered blanket. 

“Archie really does have a picnic blanket. I really don’t know why, I’ve never seen him on a picnic. Fred probably packed it.” He said with a smirk. “I brought a hoodie anyway, in case we need a pillow or something.”

“I probably won’t be able to sleep out here,” Betty protested, but she really was so exhausted that even resting her eyes seemed glorious. And Jughead looked so welcoming. So she slid her sandals off and gently sat down, grimacing at her protesting muscles. 

“I know you’re gonna hate me for saying this…” Jughead started, leaning his head on one arm. 

“If you say ice bath, Jughead Jones, I will personally murder you right here.” Betty gritted her teeth as she laid on her back. 

“You really should consider taking an ice bath later.” He said with a smile, covering her hand with his. 

She just shut her eyes. “Only if you do, too.”

“Fine, after dinner.”

“Mmm.” She rolled onto her side. 

Jughead flopped back on his bunched up hoodie, and then pulled Betty closer so she was laying on his chest. “I only brought one hoodie. I’m sorry if I’m not a comfortable pillow.”

“Is fine.” Betty’s voice felt heavy with exhaustion. “Pretty comfy.”

 

When Archie came to find them, twenty minutes later, they were both asleep. Jughead was laying on his back, one hand behind his head and the other curled around Betty, who was on her side, head on Jughead’s chest and arm thrown over his torso. He laughed, took a picture of the sleeping teenagers, and then sat down at their feet and started playing his guitar until Jughead shoved him with one foot and grumbled. 

They ate, and then made their way to change before going to the AT room. Archie was just coming to keep them company, and to distract them with his new song he was working on for the opening talent night at the end of the week. He pulled up a chair and started to tune his guitar while the camp trainer filled two of the huge metal tubs with ice and instructed the dancers to get in. Jughead watched Betty out of the corner of his eye, pulling a loose tank top and joggers off, revealing a sports bra and a tight pair of spandex shorts. He squinted his eyes shut and pulled his own t-shirt off. The sound of Archie’s guitar drowned out Betty’s gasp at Jughead’s bare chest. With matching grimaces, they stepped into the ice cold tubs, and hissed at the freezing water. 

“This seems like torture, guys.” Archie paused in his strumming. 

“It...is…” Betty shot out through gritted teeth. 

Jughead just groaned and threw his head back.

Archie shook his head and went back to playing. 

 

The next morning, Betty’s alarm woke her up, and she gritted her teeth. Her muscles protested the movement, but she slammed the button on her alarm to turn it off before it woke Val up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She was, somewhere in the back of her mind, passively thankful that Jughead had made her take an ice bath, because she knew it would be worse if she hadn’t, but she would never tell him that. Instead, she shuffled towards the shower and turned it on as hot as it would go in an effort to relax her tense muscles. As she stepped into the shared shower, she wondered what it would’ve been like if Alice had signed her up for, say, violin classes instead of ballet. 

With aching feet and only slightly more awake, Betty made her way to the cafeteria, headphones plugged into her phone, listening to her favorite throwback playlist that Alice hated and for which Polly teased her. A ballerina nodding her head to All Time Low and the Plain White T’s was, she admitted, a little bit odd. But it made her feel good, so she grabbed half a grapefruit and a glass of water and sat at the long, mostly empty table. Jughead would join her soon, to eat what could only be described as a shockingly impressive amount of food. Then Val, Melody, and Josie would come in, full faces of makeup already done up, and Josie would complain about the lack of Starbucks on campus. Archie never woke up in time for breakfast, and Jughead would bring him an apple and a peanut butter sandwich when he raced to meet them outside the cafeteria. It was like clockwork, and Betty relished the regularity of it all. 

The beanie-clad dancer in question flopped down in the seat next to her, dropping his dance bag on the seat next to him, and placing his tray down with a gentle clunk. He blinked at Betty with sleep bright eyes, and then snatched one of her ear buds, putting it in his ear. She thought he looked sort of silly, beat up headphones around his neck, early morning scowl, and her dainty pink ear bud in his ear. She thought to complain, but he just raised one eyebrow teasingly and took a sip of dark black coffee, and she just rolled her eyes and shoved his flannel-clad shoulder. 

“Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Betts?” Jughead finally asked, voice raspy with sleep, as the opening bars of Seventeen Ain’t So Sweet played into their ears. “Color me surprised, I expected you to be listening to Mozart or something.” 

She rolled her eyes again. “I don’t only listen to classical music, Jug. In fact, I almost never listen to it outside of classes.”

“Right, but this is Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, and you’re…” Jughead tilted his head to the side and gestured broadly at her.

Betty looked down. Pale grey wrap sweater, pink leotard and tights with pale grey shorts over them. Even her Keds were pristine white. She looked at the boy next to her, with his dark jeans and his heavy boots. The dark grey t-shirt he wore had a black S on the front of it, and she wondered if it meant anything in particular. The only color he wore was in the blue stripes on his unbuttoned flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that somehow matched the blue on his headphones and the blue in his eyes, and Betty laughed a little. 

She thought for a second. “Alice hates it so much,” she offered with a shrug. “Polly says I’m secretly a little emo kid hiding behind the pastel section of a paint store.” 

Jughead just blinked. Ronnie Winter cried into his ear,  _ There’s a fire in your eyes, and I hope you let it burn.  _ The fire in Betty’s eyes crackled and sparked, all-consuming. 

“You’re an enigma, Betty Cooper.” Jughead finally spoke, barely above a whisper, as the song came to a close.

The Pussycats dropped into the seats across from them. 

“Whatcha listening to?” Melody asked, spreading jelly on a piece of toast. 

Betty balked, pulling the ear bud out of her ear and pausing the music. Jughead smiled, handing her the one he had taken. “New song my instructor wants us to learn for hip hop. You know GDFR?”

“Flo Rida? Do you think I live under a rock, Jones?” Josie smirked. “That song is almost old news.”

He squeezed Betty’s hand under the table and smiled softly at her, as if to tell her,  _ your secret is safe with me. _

“It’s not even the best song on that album.” Val added. 

While they started debating the best of hip hop in the last few years, Betty looked up the song under the table. She felt the back of her neck flush at the lyrics, and cued the song up on YouTube, watching the first bit of the song without sound and almost gasping out loud. She immediately pictured Jughead on stage, baggy joggers, shirtless, gyrating to the music, and wasn’t sure she’d make it through the rest of breakfast. She closed the app on her phone and decided to wait to listen to the song later. 

 

After lunch, Betty changed into a pair of black leggings Polly had snuck into her suitcase before camp with mesh cutouts striped down the thigh and the softest tank top she’d ever worn. She tugged on the hem, trying not to feel self-conscious, and stepped into the studio. She felt a little rush of adrenaline at thought that she really shouldn’t be here, when someone bumped into her from behind. Startled, she whipped around. Suddenly, she was face to face with Jughead.

“Oh, shit. Betty, my bad!” Jughead looked alarmed, adjusting his beanie, phone in hand.

Betty felt a smile creep across her face. “Now, Mr. Jones. How many times have you been warned about texting and walking?”

He looked a little bashful, and glanced at the phone in his hand. A notification from Toni blinked through, and he could only read the first part.  _ Tall Boy’s inviting Pea to the Wy… _ He choked a little. 

“Uh, that it’s an accident waiting to happen?” He offered, looking up again. 

Betty laughed softly, putting her hand on his arm. He realized with a lurch of his stomach just how close they were standing. 

“Everything okay, Juggie?” She looked concerned. He glanced back his phone. Her gaze followed. “Toni okay?”

He had told her, late one night, close to Christmas, about helping Toni move in with her grandfather, after her mom had caught her in bed with some Manhattan prep school girl. He didn’t know where else to turn, when his best friend showed up, tears streaking her mascara, in the middle of the night, so he had turned to Betty.

Jughead shrugged. “She’s fine, mostly. Her grandfather’s great, but things are tight. There’s just...there’s a lot going on, Betts.”

She squeezed his arm gently. “Let me know if I can help, okay?” She looked up at him imploringly. 

He nodded. 

“Promise me.” 

He looked down into her bright green eyes, wide and honest and maybe a little bit afraid. “I promise,” he whispered, knowing full well there was nothing in the world that would make him burden the blonde haired ballerina with his life.

The instructor came into the room, letting the door slam behind her, and both Jughead and Betty jolted. Quickly, class started, with the instructor leading them through stretches. The assistants in the class lined up in the front of the room, and the instructor pressed play on the sound system. A thudding clap filled the room, and they began dancing to Ophelia by the Lumineers. After the last bars ended, the instructor started lining people up. Since Betty wouldn’t be dancing in their final exhibition, she and the other couple of people in the class only taking modern as a two-day elective moved to the back of the room. Jughead was front and center, tapping bare feet on the wooden floor in anticipation, and Betty bit her lip at his serious face reflected in the mirror.  _ Heaven help the fool who falls in love. _

 

By the fourth of July, Jughead felt like he was never not going to be sore again. His entire core hurt every time he took a breath and his knees both had to have permanent bruises. They were outside at some picnic thing, and he was sitting with his head thrown back against his chair, trying not to think about the conversation he’d had with Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs the night before and failing completely. 

 

“There’s absolutely no good reason for a 16 year old to be in a bar, Sweets!” He had hissed into his phone. 

“I’m almost 17.” The other boy had grumbled.

“That’s not better, Sweets. You’re still underage.” Toni had interjected. Jughead could feel her eye roll over the phone. 

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Sweet Pea had insisted. 

Jughead had frowned at that. “You really don’t see the problem with a grown man inviting a literal teenager to have drinks at a bar?”

Sweet Pea had grumbled inaudibly. 

Fangs had piped up then. “Mateo was younger than us when he started drinking with the Serpents…”

“Exactly!” Sweet Pea had cried. 

Jughead had looked up at the night sky at that, as if maybe it held the answers. “Exactly the  _ problem _ , Sweets. Now he’s in a gang. And dropped out of high school. You really wanna drop out of high school?”

“It’s not like I plan on going to college, Jones.” Sweet Pea had retorted.

“You drop out of high school, you can’t do the trade program, either, dumbass.” Toni had pressed. 

There was a moment of silence. “Fair point. No, I don’t want to drop out of high school.”

“I wanna graduate.” Fangs’ voice had been quiet, nearly a whisper. The unspoken, “I wanna be the first one.” Had hung over all them.

Jughead had dropped his heavy head into his hand. “Just...stay away from the Wyrm, guys. Please.”

The quiet sounds of assent came through with the blare of a police siren and the faint sound of screaming from somewhere in the building. Shortly, they hung up because Fangs and Sweet Pea wanted to play some video game and Toni’s grandfather had given her some ancient film camera for her birthday that she wanted to test out. Jughead had sat for a while longer on the steps outside the dorm building, staring at his blank phone. 

“Stay safe.” He whispered into the quiet night. “Please.” The words came out like a prayer. 

 

His reverie was interrupted by a blur of blonde hair. “You look like a cat, sunning himself.” Betty smiled down at him, holding a plate with a single hamburger patty and some raw carrots on it. She was wearing short jean overalls that he honestly did not want to think about over a tight white shirt. Her hair was up in another iconic ponytail, with a red bandana tied around her head.

“Meow.” He said sarcastically, squinting up at her. “Is there food yet?”

Archie appeared, handing him a plate with three cheeseburgers and a massive handful of chips piled on it. “I brought you some. If you want more, that’s on you.” The redhead sat down in the chair next to Jughead and shoved half a hot dog in his mouth with one bite. 

Betty grimaced as she sat down primly. “Arch, that’s truly disgusting.”

He just smiled around a mouth full of food. Jughead took an equally massive bite of the top burger, smearing ketchup around his mouth. 

“Guys. Gross.” She furrowed her brow and scrunched up her nose and Jughead thought that maybe she was the most beautiful human being in the world. 

He just winked at her and she bit her bottom lip to hide her smile. 

 

The sun was finally setting, and Jughead had Betty’s feet in his lap. Gently, he was massaging them and trying not to look at the look of pure pleasure on her face. Josie made some joke about dancers and foreplay, and Betty’s face tinted pink and she started to move her feet, but he gripped them tighter and smiled at her gently, ignoring the flush on his own neck. Fireworks started, and Archie spread out the massive picnic blanket again for them all to pile onto. Betty’s head was on his shoulder on one side, and Archie’s shoulder was pressed into his other side, laughing at some joke he’d told. Somewhere, music was playing. With a tinge of guilt, he let himself forget about being worried that the Serpents would sink their fangs into his friends without him there, and gently wrapped his arm around Betty’s waist. 

He woke up to two texts. One from Val, with a picture she had taken of the three of them the night before. In the picture, Betty was smearing cupcake icing on his nose and Archie’s head was thrown back laughing. 

The other text was from Toni. A picture of Fangs and Sweet Pea, shoulder to shoulder on the sofa in Fangs’ living room, intent on the television screen in front of them and the Street Fighter game that Sweet Pea was winning. “We’ll be okay, Jug.” the caption read. “But come home soon.” 

 

A week before the final performances, Jughead walked in on Archie sitting on his bed, silently, staring at his hand. The redhead didn’t even look up when Jughead slammed the door shut. 

So, Jughead stood directly in front of him and spoke. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?”

Archie’s head jolted up, and he tried to hide his hand behind him. “It’s nothing, man, no worries.”

Jughead grabbed the wrist, looking at his hand. There was a long gash across his palm, dripping blood down his wrist. “What the Kentucky fried fuck did you do, Arch!?”

“It was an accident.” The musician’s voice was barely a whisper. “I was messing around with a couple of the other musicians, throwing a football around. It went behind this bench, and I went to grab it. I think I caught my hand on the edge or something.”

“So what did the nurse say?”

Archie blushed and looked down. 

“You didn’t….you didn’t go to the nurse? What the hell.”

“I don’t want them to tell me I can’t play. I just handed the ball off and came inside.”

“Arch, you could need a tetanus shot!”

The boy shook his head. “I got a booster a few months ago.” He looked near tears. 

Jughead frowned, almost amused. “Are you really so clumsy that you already had to get a tetanus booster?”

Archie blinked up at Jughead, voice wavering. “I...I help my dad at his construction sites sometimes. He makes me get one just in case.” His eyes looked hard, accusing, almost daring. 

Knowing that look, that  _ I dare you to judge me, just try _ look, Jughead just nodded. “That’s pretty cool. And lucky, considering.” A thought occurred to him. “Alright, I’m calling Betty. If she can fix it, awesome. If she says you go to the nurse, you go to the nurse.” 

Archie nodded. “I just...want my dad to see me play.” He looked at the floor.

Jughead recognized that feeling, too. Too well. “He will, if we have any say about it.” He picked up his phone. “And go to the bathroom. Don’t get blood on your sheets.” He waved the other boy towards their shared bathroom with his phone to his ear. 

“Juggie?”

“Hi, Betts, we need some help. Archie’s an idiot.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

“Bring a first aid kit if you can find one…”

“Oh good grief. Alright.” 

 

The day of the final showcase, Archie had a long bandage wrapped around his hand, down his wrist. It was the only way they could keep the cut from opening back up every time he moved his hand, but it was healing nicely. Betty had been quiet, gentle, and easy while she cleaned the teenage boy’s hand in their dorm sink, and Jughead had cracked jokes to keep his friend’s mind of the amount of blood circling down the drain. Jughead was barefoot, in loose black dance pants and a pale grey tank top, waiting for Betty outside her dressing room. Finally, she emerged, and he gasped out loud. 

“Holy shit, Betts.” His voice was raspy with awe.

She blushed. “Is it that bad?”

“Bad!?” Jughead’s eyes were wide and he reached out to touch her bare arm. “Betty, look incredible…” 

She blushed impossibly harder. The costume was one of her favorites - pale purple harem pants of the most beautiful flowing fabric, and a bejeweled crop top of the same color, with a long, gossamer scarf wrapped around her calf and currently thrown over her shoulders to be out of the way. Shining rows of coins around her ankles and the bottom edge of her top jingled faintly when she moved. Her hair was pulled back so tight it almost hurt. Self-conscious, she went to cover her midriff with her free arm. Jughead pulled on that arm, too, and stared at her as though he was trying to commit this image to memory. She felt exposed under his gaze, and somehow elated. Somewhere, a bell chimed. 

“Come on, Juggie, you gotta go dance!” she twisted, ignoring the clenching feeling in her stomach that, for once, had nothing to do with food.

He let himself be dragged to the wings. She stood back while the modern class lined up on the stage. Watching him move, seemingly effortless, flowing into the music, made her feel a little choked up. She grasped at the edge of the curtain backstage, being sure to stay away from anyone’s line of sight, and tried not to follow the movements she had been doing twice a week for the last two and a half months. Jughead spun on his feet and dropped to the floor, and Betty felt her head spin and her heart drop. The dance ended, and she could hear Archie hooting and whistling from the audience. She smiled, and the curtain dropped. Jughead turned to leave the stage and winked at her, eyes alight and flashing. 

“Oh shit.” she muttered, and then opened her arms for him. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet. 

“Jughead!” She whispered in a hushed voice. “If you crease my costume, or get sweat on it, I will kill you!” She smacked his arm. 

Looking not particularly contrite, he gently put her back on the floor. With a smirk, he waved and turned to follow his class back to the dressing rooms. He turned back. “If I don’t see you before you start, good luck!” he said in a whisper as the camp director was announcing the tap class. “I’ll be watching from the wings!” 

Betty blushed and watched the jazz ensemble perform until her stern instructor grabbed her by the arm and tugged her back to a small circle of their class. There were 5 of them, in various stages of terrifyingly nervous or jittery and excited. After a few more moments, Betty was lined up with the other dancers, holding her scarf aloft, and waiting for the music to start. As soon as she set foot on the stage, she felt everything else wash away. La Bayadere was a beautiful ballet, and the scarf dance was one of her favorite dances from the story. She felt like she was floating. All the pain, the innumerable ice baths, the long hours, all worth it to tell this beautiful tale of unrequited love. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she saw Jughead’s eager face, and thought for a moment that she might know Nikiya might be feeling - in love with someone she may never have. 

When she finally rushed off stage with the other ballerinas, Betty ran right into Jughead. He picked her up again, spinning her around, and then placed her gently down. Midge, the tiny, dark haired dancer in her year, giggled as she swept past. 

“Betty, you were beautiful.” Jughead gushed, lips close to Betty’s ear. “I couldn’t take my eyes away from you.”

She felt breathless, the hair on her neck standing up and goosebumps trailing down her spine and arms. Backing up slightly, hands on Jughead’s chest, Betty suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Low slung, dark jeans hung on hips, suspenders hanging low. He had his iconic grey beanie on, and his clunky boots, but his chest was bare and pale and scattered with freckles and Betty couldn’t breathe. Before she could say anything at all, Midge was back, and grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the dressing rooms.

“I’ll be watching, Juggie.” she gasped out. 

Betty had never changed faster, taking the barest of care not to tear the thin fabric of her costume, and throwing her pointe shoes in her bag with force. She could hear her fellow dancers talking, but she ignored them as she pulled soft shorts over her tights and wrapped her sweater around her. She didn’t even bother to take her makeup off or undo her hair, just handed the assistant her costume and tugging her shoes on, straining to hear the tap ensemble’s music through the building. 

She made it back to the wings just as the opening beat to a sort of clean version GDFR started to play. Watching her friend dance was...staggering. He somehow managed to look smug and bored and impossibly intense all at the same time. She knew there were other dancers on that stage, but when he caught her eye as they turned, limbs moving at almost impossible speeds, hips thrust, he winked, blue eyes shining, and Betty forgot there was anyone else in the entire performance hall. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew Alice would have something to say about how hip hop was so low class, but she felt like her body was on fire. Her muscles were sore from her dance, but she was pretty sure the weakness in her knees and the tightening in her core had exactly nothing to do with ballet. She knew she should probably close her mouth, but she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Finally, the dance ended and Jughead was on his knees, head thrown back, chest heaving, and the crowd was going wild. Archie was straight up shouting and there was a wolf whistle from somewhere in the back of the room that Betty couldn’t place. 

Jughead ran off the stage with the rest of his class, grabbing Betty’s hand on the way, tugging her towards the dressing rooms. 

“Jughead, that was incredible!” She gushed when they finally stopped. “I still don’t know how you move like that, but…”

He was smiling, trying to catch his breath. He had caught sight of the breathless blonde ballerina watching him from the wings and felt her eyes on him with every move his body made. It was electrifying, and took an impressive amount of effort to stay focused on the dance. 

“Betts, I…”

Archie came careening around the corner with his eyes shining. “Damn, Jug!” He cried when he saw them. Jughead dropped Betty’s hand like it had shocked him. She missed the warm pressure immediately. “I’m pretty sure every girl in the audience wants you. And about half the guys…”

Jughead blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Something that felt alarmingly like jealousy curled in Betty’s chest. “Uh, yeah, Arch. It was just a dance…”

“Both of you were amazing! Betts, you looked so beautiful! How do you make it seem so effortless?” Archie seemed oblivious to the moment he had interrupted.

Betty just smiled, crossing her arms over herself. “Years of practice, Archie. Years and years of practice.”

 

The show ended, and Betty made her way to the lobby of the performance hall with Jughead and Archie. She had spotted Polly’s straight blonde hair somewhere and was so glad her sister was here. Fred Andrews was leaning against a wall in a plaid button down looking distinctly uncomfortable in the crowd. 

Suddenly, a less-than-distinguished shout erupted from a few yards away. “Aye, yo Jones!” 

Jughead’s head whipped around to the direction of the sound, seeing Sweet Pea head and shoulders over almost everyone else in the building, and groaned. Betty and Archie followed his line of sight, sharing a confused look as the tall, boisterous boy dragged a tiny, pink-haired girl who was rolling her eyes and gesturing at their third companion. Archie recognized that one. 

“Hey! Fangs, right?!” the redhead said, brightly, sticking his hand out. 

Fangs blinked for a second, and then recognition crossed his features and he shook the offered hand. “Oh, yeah, hey. It’s, uh…”

“Archie. Andrews.” Archie turned to the other two, hand still outstretched. Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow, but took the hand and gripped it maybe a little bit too tight. Toni shoved him and shook Archie’s hand. 

“Jones, are ya gonna introduce your friends?” She asked pointedly. 

Jughead jumped slightly, almost startled. “Oh, uh. Yeah.” He gestured around. “Archie, Betts, this is Toni, Fangs, and the animal who should not be allowed out in public without a muzzle is Sweet Pea.” 

Recognition flickered across Betty’s mind. These were Jughead’s best friends. They had come to see his dance. Her heart warmed at the thought. 

Then Cheryl shoved her. “Move, you brat,” the pale actress sneered. 

Betty stumbled, bumping into Jughead, and flushed. 

“Jesus, Cherrybomb,” Toni spat. “Try for some manners, maybe?”

Cheryl stopped short and turned on one sharp Prada stiletto. She looked Toni up and down, and if Betty wasn’t mistaken, there was a glimmer of something other than disgust - maybe appreciation - flickering through Cheryl’s gaze for a split second. Then she spoke. “Listen, Queen of the Buskers. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to, but I’m going to need you not to speak to me.” she paused, appearing to think for a moment. “Better yet, get the hell out of my performance hall.” Then she turned back the way she came, tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, and the echo of her heels on the tile floor followed her away. 

Toni whistled low. “Well damn.”

“I think she gives redheads a bad name…” Archie mumbled. 

Sweet Pea’s eyes were wide. “Who the hell was THAT?”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Cheryl Blossom. She’s an  _ actress. _ ” He said the last word the same way most people said things like “black mold,” or “swamp fungus,” a sneer across his upper lip. 

“And a raging bitch.” Betty muttered under her breath, hiking her dance bag up on her shoulder. 

“Oh shit, Blondie’s got a mouth on her!” Toni grinned. 

Polly suddenly slid up to Betty’s side. 

“And a...twin?” Sweet Pea added. 

Betty quickly introduced everyone. “Guys, this is my older sister Polly. Polly, you know Archie and Jug. These are Jughead’s friends, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni.”

Polly waved, smile bright. “Good to see you, boys!” she nodded to Archie and Jughead. “And it’s nice to meet you, friends of Jughead!” She turned to Betty and spoke urgently. “Alice is...getting impatient.” Her eyes were wide. 

“Shit.” Betty dropped her head. “I gotta go. It was nice to meet you all,” she mimicked her sister’s nod, “Arch, Jug, I’ll text you. Archie, say hi to your dad for me. Get home safe, yeah?”

He nodded and pulled her into a quick hug. “Good luck this year!”

She threw her arms around Jughead’s neck before she could think too hard about it and tugged him close. “I’ll miss you, Juggie.” She whispered in his ear. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his hands around her waist, hugging her tightly. “I’ll miss you more, Betts.” Too quickly, she let go. “Don’t let the man getcha down,” he added with a smile. 

If anyone noticed Jughead watching her blonde ponytail bounce across the lobby and out the door, they at least had the decency not to say anything. 


	4. Summer 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen Ain't So Sweet...
> 
> Their lives are all kind of falling apart, and they cling to each other to stay upright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Gang violence (mentioned but not shown), suicide (mentioned but not shown), self harm (mentioned but not shown), Betty collapses from dehydration and malnutrition (that is shown).   
> Also, Alice sucks a lot. Like, a LOT.

There would be no cheerful Polly to wave Betty off to camp the next summer. She had done what she had always talked about. Made a “detour” on the way to college with Chuck and they ended up in southern California in a tiny one bedroom apartment within biking distance of the beach and a couple blocks from the community college where Polly was now taking classes, to be an elementary school teacher. Betty bristled with pride for her older sister, who sent her pictures from the boardwalk and video called every Friday night, who was finally free, finally living the life she wanted, away from Alice Cooper. But the shaking inner monologue of Betty’s self-consciousness had her sobbing into the phone while Jughead tried to soothe her from several hours away the night she realized Polly was gone. The next weekend, in a shocking surprise, the two boys had shown up, Archie in his dad’s beat up truck and a letterman jacket, and Jughead in leather on the back of a sleek, shining black motorcycle. Betty would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t definitely appreciate the way he looked, hair wild, leaning against the chrome and metal, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. They dragged her to the diner Jughead had passed on his way in, the neon sign announcing Pop’s Burgers and Milkshakes flickering above the old school style diner. 

The smiling old man greeted her when she walked in, flanked by her two dearest friends. “Betty Cooper, as I live and breathe!” He cried across the counter. “It’s been so long, where’s your sister?”

Betty flinched. “Hi Pop.” She tried for a smile, but it was weak. “Polly’s...in California.”

Pop nodded, understanding washing across his face. “And who are your friends, Miss Cooper?” He nodded to the boys standing on either side of her. 

Jughead had his hands shoved in his pockets as he took in the chrome diner, appreciating the classic 50s aesthetic. A jukebox in the corner was playing Elvis softly and a lone middle aged man was eating a massive burger at the counter. 

“This is Archie, and Jughead.” Betty smiled at the kind older man. “They’re my friends from camp, they came to visit me before school started.” Archie waved, smile bright, and Jughead nodded, lips twitching in an approximation of a grin.

“Well, Archie and Jughead,” Pop gestured broadly to his restaurant. “Any friend of Betty Cooper’s is a friend of mine. Sit anywhere, I’ll grab some menus.” 

Betty grabbed Jughead’s wrist and pulled him towards her regular table, the one she usually shared with Polly when they came to escape Alice Cooper’s house. Archie followed, taking the offered menus from Pop. He sat across the table from Jughead and Betty and smiled to himself as they looked over the menu. After a moment, Pop came by. 

“Sabrina won’t be here for a couple more hours, so I’ll be playing waiter today.” He said with a grin, pulling a pad of paper out of his stained apron pocket. “The usual, Miss Cooper?”

Betty was fiddling with the edge of a napkin, tearing it into pieces. She knew she’d have to work out for an extra hour, but...maybe she deserved the treat. “Don’t forget the extra cherry!” she piped up with a smile. 

“I would never.” His smile was so gentle. “Boys?”

Archie looked up from the menu. “I’ll have your All American cheeseburger, no pickles or onions, and fries? And a strawberry milkshake. Please.” He smiled and stacked his menu on top of Betty’s. 

Pops nodded and then turned to Jughead. “Mr. Jughead?” 

The beanie-clad boy looked a little startled to be addressed as such, but recovered quickly enough. “Uh, can I please have a deluxe cheeseburger with the works, extra fries, and a chocolate shake with extra whipped cream?” His eyes were alight with excitement. 

Pops just chuckled a little and nodded. A few minutes later, he returned with a tray of food. A vanilla milkshake with extra cherries for Betty, and the burgers, milkshakes, and fries for the boys. Jughead stared at his meal almost reverently before Betty elbowed him and he started eating like a man starved. 

He groaned. “Oh my god, Betts. You’ve been holding out on us. This is better than the diner back home…” 

She just blushed and sipped her milkshake. 

 

In an effort to cling to the shattering remnants of control over her life, Betty spent every waking hour in the studio, practicing, even volunteering to assist with some of the younger classes. A row of near-perfect crescent marks on both her palms created permanent scars by Thanksgiving, and Betty pinched at the skin on her hips, tugging to ensure that it was, in fact, just that - skin. She ignored her friend Kevin’s whispered concerns, insisting that she was just fine. She texted Jughead and Archie, video chatted with Polly, and did everything she could to stay one step ahead of her mother. 

Jughead spent every waking moment and more than a few of his sleeping ones with Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni. He sweat out hours of frustration in Mustang’s studio, blaring the music too loudly and glaring at the mirror. When Sweet Pea’s mom went back into the hospital in December, Jughead spent the night there with him, unsleeping and jaw clenched. After a massive fight the next day, the taller boy didn’t talk to Jughead for a week and then came back with a new leather jacket, bruised knuckles, and a neck tattoo. But the teenager’s mom no longer had to worry about hospital bills and his little sisters finally had enough food to eat, so Jughead just helped him patch up the cut above his eye and read over his English essay for him in the library. Sweets promised to finish high school, no matter what, and Jughead wanted to scream at him not to make promises he couldn’t keep, but he bit his lip and went back to the essay. When the first signs of spring rolled around, he held a screaming Fangs when Tallboy came by the shorter boy’s apartment with the news that Mateo had been shot by a rival gang. They were silent at the funeral and Jughead wasn’t surprised to see Fangs at his door at 2 am with a matching leather jacket, a busted lip, and a ribcage full of bruises - he just pulled out the first aid kit and cleaned his friend up through gritted teeth. 

Archie screamed into the soundproofed garage at his dad’s house the weekend his dad went to Chicago to finalize the divorce until his throat felt raw and didn’t touch his guitar for three full weeks. He struggled as the letters and numbers on the pages in front of him seemed to swim and flip themselves around unbidden and felt like he was going crazy trying to keep up in his classes. When Fred presented him with the shell of a classic car at Christmas, he tried not to think of the expense and just focus on the feeling of he and his dad, shoulder to shoulder, in the cold garage, trying to make it run again. 

 

Summer seemed like a beacon at the end of the darkest of tunnels. Toni drove Jughead upstate in Mustang’s truck, unspoken promises to wait the summer out, to hold on, fluttering around the cab like a million annoying moths. Archie had finally gotten the car fixed and Fred let him drive himself, as long as he promised to drive carefully and call when he arrived, letting his son know he’d be at the final performance no matter what. Betty sat silent in the passenger’s seat of Alice Cooper’s station wagon, looking out the window and trying to ignore the headache building at her temples, while her mother’s sharp tongue spat out instructions and insults in equal measure. Jughead felt like he could breathe again when he sat sandwiched between the redheaded musician and the sunshine blonde ballerina at the opening meeting. Betty didn’t even think before she signed up for the modern class, three afternoons a week this time, ignoring the look of surprise from Val and Melody, who were noticeably without Josie for reasons she hadn’t discovered yet, and Cheryl’s noise of disbelief. Archie sat on the fire escape outside his and Jughead’s dorm window the first night and played guitar to the stars, a feeling of ease washing over him for the first time in months. 

 

When Betty arrived at camp to find Cheryl in her dorm room unpacking, she was, to say the least, confused. “Where’s Val?” She asked the fiery redhead. 

“Why the hell should I know?” Cheryl snapped back, lip snarling. “Probably with that other pop band wannabe.” 

Betty frowned, dropping her bags on the bed, but before she could figure out what happened, she realized it was time to go to the opening meeting. As soon as she could, she found Melody and Val, huddled together on one of the beds in the dorm room they were apparently sharing. 

“Hey…” she stood in the open doorway, voice wavering. 

Val looked up. “Oh my god, Betty, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think!”

“What’s going on?” The blonde’s brow furrowed again. 

Val opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. Melody spoke, spitting out the words, bitter. “Josie fucking ditched us. Got some offer from some industry bigwig or whatever, and apparently he wanted her to go solo. So she fucking did. Didn’t even bother to tell us until like, a week ago.”

Betty stepped into the room and sat on the empty bed against the opposite wall. “Oh no!” She gasped. “That’s so messed up!”

Melody just nodded, scowling. 

“Obviously, we still wanted to come to camp, so we decided to just room together, but I completely forgot to tell you!” Val put her head in her hands. 

Betty smiled softly. “It’s alright, Val. I was just surprised, is all.”

“Well hey, you get the room to yourself!” Val brightened a little. 

“Not exactly…” she grimaced in spite of herself.

Val’s smile dropped. “Oh no. Who’d they put you with?”

“Cheryl.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Betty!”

Betty just shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m sure I can handle the Head Bitch for a few months.” 

“She usually spends all of her time with her creepy twin brother, anyway.” Melody offered up, half a smile on her face. 

Betty nodded, wondering if she had seen the ever-silent Jason at camp yet, but figured she must’ve just missed him. 

And when she heard what sounded like Cheryl crying into her silk pillowcase that night when they were both meant to be sleeping, she figured she must be hearing things. 

 

At the end of the first week, all of the dancers in their age group gathered in the biggest dance studio early on Saturday morning. Jughead looked grouchy at having to wake up before noon, as he leaned his head against Betty’s shoulder. She blushed slightly, taking in the warm weight of him and the pepperminty smell of his shampoo under his trademark beanie. The instructors explained that they were going to have to perform dances they choreographed themselves, either groups or partnerships. They were welcome to combine dance styles, or not, and to ask for as much help as they needed, but these would be filmed for their portfolios, so they had better be good. They had a week to decide on groups and songs. Immediately, the room filled with sound, excitement and nerves building up all around them. Betty turned to Jughead, who was suddenly wide awake, staring at Betty with bright eyes. 

“Dance with me, Betts.” He grabbed her hand, voice hushed and urgent. 

“But, Jug...I’m not good enough at modern…” She winced, clinging to his hand. 

“So we’ll combine styles. Modern and ballet.” He shrugged easily, but his eyes were pleading. 

Finding herself unable to say no to the blue-eyed boy in front of her, Betty nodded slowly. “That could work. But...what would we dance to?” 

Jughead pondered for a moment, and then a thought occurred to him. He reached into the front pocket of Betty’s dance bag, and pulled out her phone. He swiped to open it, typing in her password - her birthday, she had confessed a few years ago, telling him that she never really changed it. He opened the Spotify app, and found her secret playlist, her secret “emo kid hiding behind the pastel paint section of a hardware store.” Fittingly, it was titled Pastel Paint Kid. He scrolled until he found what he was looking for, dug around for her earbuds, ignoring her curious stare. He plugged them in, handed her one, and tucked the other one in his own ear. He pressed play, listening for the beginning of the song.  _ My eyes are open wide by the way I made it through the day… _

Betty gasped. It was...in a word, perfect. She could already see it, see the way their styles would combine, the way they could move together, pain etched into movements.  _ Sometimes goodbye is a second chance… _ Quickly, it was settled, decided. 

They’d both be learning 3 dances that summer, and Betty tried not to feel overwhelmed. Her ballet instructor had announced, much to the glee of everyone in the room, that they’d be dancing the Mistake Waltz from the Concert, and Betty was pretty sure she saw the hint of a smile in the corner of the stern woman’s eyes. Jughead actually whistled, fingers between his lips, when the modern instructor announced that they’d be dancing to Classic by MKTO, and upbeat song that had come out a few years earlier. He told them all at lunch on the second day, after he had down an entire glass of water and half of the first chicken sandwich on his plate, that they had finally worn the hip hop instructor down enough to let them do some throwback music, and so they’d be dancing to Remix to Ignition. Betty had blushed when she realized she knew that song and immediately imagined Jughead’s lean body thrusting to the beat. And together, they’d choreograph and perform a dance to Second Chance by Shinedown. She knew Alice would be so mad at the final showcase performance, but when she was standing in the center of an empty studio in a perfect arabesque one evening, with Jughead smiling soft and warm at her in the mirror, she found that she didn’t much care. 

 

Betty had asked Cheryl, on the second day of camp, where Jason was this summer, but the redhead had just glared at her, an almost shocked look on her face, and swept out of the room in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. But when the actress’ wracking sobs woke Betty up for the third night in a row on the second Wednesday of the summer, she decided enough was enough. Grabbing a soft cloth from her dresser and a water bottle from her bag, she made her way to the other girl’s bed. Without a word, she sat down on the edge and ignored the way Cheryl snarled at her and rolled away. She brushed the other girl’s long hair away from her face, and gently wiped the tears from her face. After a moment, Cheryl stopped trying to get away from Betty and was struggling to find breath. Betty pulled the sobbing girl up to a sitting position and started gently rubbing her back until the hiccuping died down, and then handed her the water bottle. Cheryl accepted with a small smile and took a few sips before putting it on the desk next to her bed. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” the redhead demanded, almost threateningly. 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Because, first of all, I’d like to get some damn sleep this summer. But, second of all - and more importantly - I have no idea what’s going on, but whatever it is, no one deserves to suffer alone, Cheryl. Not even you.”

Cheryl just huffed out a breath. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but...I’m here for you. If you want to talk, or even if you just want someone to sit with you. I’m told I’m pretty good at that. And I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Not even that beanie wearing hoodlum?” Cheryl accused with a smirk. 

Betty looked up to the ceiling and wondered for a minute if it was worth it to help her roommate. She decided to bite the bullet. “I’m not going to tell Jughead your business, Cheryl. But if you wanted to be a little nicer, I highly doubt it would hurt anyone.”

Cheryl snorted and then laid back down. Betty started to stand up, but the other girl grabbed her wrist. Betty twisted to peer at her tear-stained face in the dark. 

“Can you stay? Just for a little while longer?” Cheryl’s voice was so small, so unlike her, that Betty found herself nodding without realizing it. 

She laid down next to Cheryl on the narrow bed, face to face, and gently rubbed Cheryl’s shaking shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is, you’ll get through it.” 

“JJ killed himself.” Cheryl burst out, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. 

Betty jolted. “Oh my god, Cheryl. I’m so sorry!” She gasped, pulling the shaking girl in for a hug. “Cheryl, that’s awful.” 

After a few shaking breaths, words started to pour from Cheryl’s mouth, almost tumbling over each other. Their father had been putting her twin brother under so much pressure, pushing him to join the family business, and Jason had been miserable for years. So, after yet another long, screaming fight with their father while Cheryl listened on from the hallway and their mother pretended nothing was happening in the sitting room, Jason had stormed past his twin sister and locked himself in his room. That night, when everyone else was sleeping, he had snuck into their father’s study and shot himself in the head at their father’s desk. And their parents were just acting like nothing had happened. They claimed it to be a hunting accident and held a closed casket funeral and told Cheryl to keep her mouth shut. Betty just held her while she cried, pouring the entire thing out to the darkened room. She tried to imagine Cheryl’s pain, but found she couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine losing Polly completely, and her parents completely ignoring her pain. Well...that part she could imagine, but, to not be able to talk to anyone about it? God, it was awful. So, she just rubbed soothing circles on the redhead’s shaking back until they fell asleep. 

It was the beginning of a confusing and tentative friendship. Slowly, Cheryl’s remarks became less cutting, and Betty was there with a soft cloth and a bottle of water when Cheryl’s sobs wracked through the night. Cheryl glared at Betty throughout meals until Betty choked down as much of her salad as she could, dry vegetables getting caught in her throat. 

When the Fourth of July weekend approached, Archie insisted that they all pile into his new car and find a spot by the nearby Sweetwater River to have a picnic and go swimming. Cheryl gifted Betty with a dark blue halter top bathing suit with white trim and did her hair up for her in a red bandana. She even insisted on putting a bright red lip tint on the blonde’s lips, claiming it was smudge- and kiss-proof, and would stay on for hours, or until she decided to take it off. Betty knew better than to argue with Cheryl’s stern voice when she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, and just nodded in agreement, puckering her lips when instructed. It felt a little bit worth it when she slid across the back bench seat of Archie’s refurbished convertible and Jughead’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. Cheryl triumphantly claimed shotgun, and Archie twisted in the driver’s seat, sympathetically explaining that someone was going to have to sit on someone else’s lap for everyone to fit as Melody and Val approached the vehicle. Cheryl turned to Betty, lowered her giant red sunglasses, and nodded towards the beanie-clad dancer who was staring at Betty like she was water and he was in the desert. 

“Betty can sit on Jughead’s lap,” the actress drolled when it became clear no one was going to do anything, “I’m sure he won’t mind, will you, Oliver Twist?” She said with a smile and absolutely no venom.

“You know I almost don't resent that, Cheryl.” Jughead rolled his eyes, but realized when he saw the glint in her eyes, what she was doing, the opportunity he was giving him. To have this blonde angel curled into his lap for the duration of their drive. “But sure. Comere’ Betts,” he said, pulling her closer and lifting her into his lap, “No worries at all.” 

Val and Melody tossed their bags in the trunk with the rest of their supplies and slid in once Betty was situated, blushing, head against Jughead’s chest. 

“Drive carefully, Andrews.” Jughead reached up to shove his friend’s shoulder. Archie just rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror and winked slightly. Jughead averted his gaze, wrapping his arm around Betty’s narrow torso and relishing the feeling of her pressed against him. It felt like the perfect summer. 

 

Jughead felt like he should’ve known things like this were too good to last, but he let himself forget. Then, late on a Thursday evening, Cheryl came crashing through his and Archie’s dorm room door, looking panicked. 

“What the fuck, Cheryl!?” Archie blurted out, clinging to the towel around his waist. 

She waved her manicured hand impatiently. “Whatever, Mr. All American. We have an emergency.”

Jughead felt panic and dread washing over him. “You better not be being dramatic right now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Betty collapsed.” 

Archie grabbed his shorts off his bed and rushed back to the bathroom to pull them on. Jughead was pulling his boots on, bolting out the door. Archie followed behind, sliding into his sneakers and tugging a t-shirt over his head. Cheryl lead them quickly down the narrow dorm hallway to the room she shared with Betty, pushing the door open. 

Val and Melody was crouched by Betty’s prone form. A pillow was tucked behind her head, and Melody was holding a cup of water with a straw. Both girls moved quickly when Jughead stomped into the room, immediately kneeling down beside Betty. He grabbed her hand. It was like ice. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to speak. 

“Jug…” she choked out, voice weak. 

“Shh, Betts. I’m here. I gotcha.” He brushed an imaginary hair away from her clammy forehead. 

Behind him, Archie spoke. “What the hell happened?”

Cheryl’s voice was unusually shaky. “She was walking towards the shower, and then all of a sudden, she got really pale and just...fell. She was out cold, I screamed for Val and Melody. Once they were here, I came to get you.”

“She just passed out?” Archie frowned. Jughead’s eyes fell on her dance bag. 

“Betts,” he whispered. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

She shook her head weakly. 

Cheryl answered for her. “Breakfast. Barely.”

“We need to take her to the hospital.” Jughead’s voice was even, calm, in spite of the panic filling his chest.

“We’ll take my car,” Archie insisted. “Cheryl, come with us. Val, Melody, can you tell your counselor? I’m sure the camp will have some kind of protocol about this, but…”

“Just tell them we couldn’t wait, whatever you want to tell them. We’re going now.” Jughead knelt down to pick up the frail girl on the floor, holding her tight. 

Val and Melody nodded. Cheryl grabbed Betty’s shoes, sweater, and wallet, and Archie held the door open. He then ran to his room. He met them by his car with Jughead’s wallet and flannel, and his keys, wallet, and hoodie. Cheryl opened the back door for Jughead, and he laid Betty down on the bench seat, sliding in after her. He lifted her head to his lap, wrapping his arm around her, and held her tight as Cheryl started giving Archie directions to the hospital across town. When Archie pulled up at the emergency room door, Cheryl helped Jughead get Betty out and they burst through the doors.

What felt like an eternity later, Jughead was pacing the waiting room while Cheryl sat, face like stone, next to Archie, who kept tugging at his hair. The camp director and the girls’ counselor were sitting across the room, worried expressions on their faces. Jughead had talked them down from calling Alice, panic rising like bile in his throat as he explained that would just make the whole thing worse. A knowing look passed the director’s face and she just nodded, speaking to someone at the nurse’s station. 

Finally, a doctor came through the swinging doors and called out, “Betty Cooper’s family?”

Jughead froze in his tracks and turned to the doctor.

The camp director spoke up. “I’m presently her guardian.” The grey haired woman said with a smile, lifting a signed release in her hand. 

They all gathered around the doctor, waiting for news. He raised his eyebrow at the three teenagers, and Jughead just glared at the man. The director gestured for the man to continue, and put a gentle hand on Jughead’s shoulder. 

“She’s dehydrated, and passed out from not eating. We put her on an IV drip for fluids and nutrients, and she’ll have to stay overnight. She said she’d just forgotten to eat today, something about practice, but…”

“She’s awake?” Jughead gasped out. 

The doctor nodded. “And asking for someone named…” he looked down at his clipboard, “Jug Head?” 

Jughead ran his hand through his messy hair. His beanie was forgotten on his bed back at the dorm. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“Well, you all can visit three at a time. Ma’am,” He looked at the director, “If you could come with us to sign some papers, please.”

Cheryl pushed Jughead forward, and then Archie. “Go,” she hissed. “I’ll be right here. I’m going to call Val and Melody.” 

The boys nodded and followed the doctor and the director through the double doors. At the door, the doctor put his hand on Jughead’s arm and gestured for him to step away from the room for a moment. He frowned, but waved Archie through the door. 

“Tell her I’ll be right there, I promise.” He told Archie. 

The other boy nodded and went to check on their friend. 

“Son, I need to be quite blunt with you for a moment.” The doctor spoke in a low tone and Jughead felt his stomach drop. “This isn’t a matter of her forgetting to eat one day. She’s dramatically underweight. How do you know her?”

“She’s…” Jughead felt like he was choking on air. “She’s my best friend in the whole world.” He whispered. “Her mom is…”

The doctor nodded, seeming to understand whatever it was that Jughead was trying to say. “She needs to be eating more. She’s a dancer, right?”

Jughead nodded, despondent. 

“She needs to eat to keep up with the physical demands of her sport, and she’s not eating enough to keep up with being inactive.” He flipped through some pages. “Now, I don’t want to call her parents, because she looked like she was going pass out again when the nurse suggested that, but, I need you to be honest with me. Is she going to be safe going back home?”

Jughead stood mutely for a moment. Strong, brave Betty, was lying in a hospital room with needles in her arms, and this doctor wanted to know if she would be safe at home.

“If she doesn’t get help for this, you understand, she will be back here again…” the doctor prompted. 

“She’ll be okay.” Jughead suddenly heard himself insisting. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

The doctor cocked his head to the side and nodded. “Alright, son. Go on ahead. She was asking for you, after all.”

He all but ran the few steps to Betty’s room and rushed to her side. She looked so small laying there, face pale, blonde hair mussed up around here. But her eyes lit up when he came in the room and she reached out the hand least covered in tubes and needles. 

“Juggie…” she whispered, voice rough and harsh. Archie grinned, grim and older than his 17 years should suggest, across the bed. 

He took her hand and cradled it to his face. “You really scared us there, Betts. Cheryl said you haven’t been eating again. I haven’t seen you at lunch the last couple of days.” He hooked his ankle around the other free chair and pulled it flush with her hospital bed. 

“I’ve been busy practicing…” she looked embarrassed, tears starting to pool at the corners of her eyes. 

“I know, baby, but you know you still gotta eat. Imagine what Madame Sokolov would say.” He urged, voice gentle. He leaned over and brushed the tears from her cheeks. 

She nodded. “It’s just...really, really hard.”

“I know, Betts. I know.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Betty.” Archie insisted. “To help. With whatever you need. We’re your friends.” His face looked wane and exhausted. 

The camp director came in the room and Archie sat upright. Jughead nodded at her and turned back to Betty. 

“Well, Miss Cooper,” the director said in a suspiciously tight voice, “You gave us quite the scare here.” 

Betty flushed bright red. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

She patted Betty’s blanket covered foot. “That’s quite alright, dear. We’ve all been there, stressed out and busy and forgetting to take care of ourselves. But you must remember to be eating, at least three meals a day, and drinking lots of water, darling. We stress this often!”

Betty squeezed Jughead’s hand tight, and he ran his thumb over hers. 

“Did you call my mom?” Betty’s voice was barely a whisper. 

A flash of something close to anger crossed the director’s eyes for a split second. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. The doctor said you’re quite alright as is.” She paused for a moment. “However, should this happen again…”

Betty let out a breath. “It won’t, ma’am. I promise.”

“Well, alright then, Miss Cooper. I have to head back to camp, but your counselor and a very irate looking Miss Blossom are in the waiting room for you.” 

Jughead looked up at Archie. 

“I’ll go get them,” Archie said with a nod. “And then maybe some dinner. Jug, you want anything?”

He just shrugged. “Whatever works, man.” 

Archie left the room and shortly after that, Cheryl came bursting through the door, followed by the counselor. Cheryl said nothing, just began tutting around Betty’s bed, helping her into her sweater and brushing her hair back into a loose French braid. The counselor checked in with Betty, concern painted across her face, and then explained that Archie was going to drop her back off at campus and come back. 

An orderly came in with soup and juice for Betty after the counselor left. She grimaced at the plate in front of her, thinking of her notebook in her dance bag at home. 

“Come on, Betts.” Jughead urged, opening the carton of juice for her. “It’s not the most appetizing looking, but you gotta eat, love.” 

She looked at him, eyes pained. 

“Just pretend it’s a milkshake from Pops.” He said with a small smile.

Then a thought occurred to him and he texted Archie. 

Slowly, Betty started sipping her soup, pulling pieces of bread off the roll on the tray and chewing them too many times. Cheryl had perched herself gently on the bed next to Betty and was cheerfully showing the blonde her Instagram feed with her legs out in front of her and her ankles crossed. The only indication that something was amiss with the blunt redhead was the slight tremor in the hand holding her phone and the wrinkle on her forehead. Before long, Archie returned with a large paper bag, holding a styrofoam cup and looking a little contrite. 

“Are you supposed to have that in here?” Betty asked quietly. 

He shrugged. “Probably not, but no one stopped me.” He put the cup down on her tray. Then he reached into the bag, pulling out a grilled chicken salad for Cheryl, and handing Jughead a cheeseburger wrapped in aluminum. 

“What’s in the cup?” Betty’s voice was curious. 

“Vanilla milkshake,” Archie said, casual. “Kinda had a hankering.” He pulled up another chair and leaned back to eat his own burger. 

Betty tilted the cup towards her, peering through the lid. “Is there a cherry?” She whispered. 

“Think so,” Archie was speaking through a mouth full of burger, and then he swallowed. “Yours if you want it.” He didn’t look up, but Jughead saw the hopeful look in his eye. 

Betty said nothing in response, but moved the cup to the other side of her plate. Cheryl took a bite of her salad and raised one eyebrow. Jughead felt like he was holding his breath. Betty finished her soup silently. Then, slowly, cautiously, she opened the lid of the milkshake. With the straw and shaking fingers, she fished out the bright red maraschino cherry and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes lit up and Jughead let out a breath. Then, even more cautiously, Betty put the straw back in the milkshake and took a small sip. Without looking up, she picked up the cup, and leaned back, taking another sip. Archie shared a victorious look with Jughead. Cheryl smiled into her salad. 

After a while, Archie offered to take Cheryl back to campus. He had started to offered to take Jughead, but the dark haired boy just shook his head firmly, so he gathered their food trash and promised Betty they’d be back in the morning. Cheryl said she’d bring a change of clothes, promising to see if they could find some decent sushi in this “nowhere town, or something.” When they were finally gone, Jughead took his boots and his flannel off, and crawled into Betty’s narrow hospital bed, careful of her tubes and wires, and wrapped his arms around her the best he could. 

She was crying in his arms, her face pressed to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jug.” 

He smoothed her hair and rubbed her back in slow circles. “It’s okay, Betts. You don’t have to apologize. I’m here, I got you. I got you.” 

After a while, she finally fell asleep, and Jughead followed, fitful and full of self-doubt. 

The nurse didn’t even try to argue about the sleeping teens huddled together in the dim light of the hospital room. 

 

After the hospital, Betty seemed brighter, better somehow. It wasn’t perfect, but she “accidentally” dropped her notebook behind the radiator in the hallway and clutched Jughead’s leg while she cut into a pork chop at dinner the next Friday, trying not to panic as she ate the whole thing. Cheryl kept ordering take out for everyone on the weekends: sushi, chinese food, even pizza. Polly sent a box with an array of protein bars and a container of homemade chocolate brownies, with a note praising her little sister’s bravery. Practices continued, and Jughead kept a watchful eye on his dance partner. 

He also kept a watchful eye on his phone for texts from Toni. Mostly, she told him about dance practices at Mustang’s studio, and occasional movie nights with Fangs and Sweet Pea. He tried to read between the lines, to spot any instance of trouble, but she assured him they were doing alright. 

They were all prepping like mad for their final showcase. Cheryl was performing a gut-wrenching monologue that brought tears to Betty’s eyes and gave Jughead a newfound respect for the bitchy redhead. Archie, Val, and Melody had agreed to perform together, a cover of the Chainsmokers’ Closer with Archie and Val singing and playing guitar and keyboard, respectively, and Melody on percussion. Jughead and Betty kept their performance a secret, but when their instructors beamed with praise at the final rehearsal, Betty felt like floating away. 

 

The day finally came. Cheryl would be performing first, her monologue and then the theatre group’s performance. She looked stunning, breathtaking, standing barefoot on stage with a single spotlight focused on her. Tears streaked down her cheeks by the end of it, and Betty was clapping so loud her hands hurt. Jughead smiled when he heard Toni’s piercing whistle and Sweet Pea’s loud shout from the back of the room. 

Then the musicians. Together, they performed a big band number - December, 1963 by the Four Seasons - that had even Jughead tapping his toes and Cheryl nodding her head to the beat. The crowd erupted when Archie, Melody, and Val bowed after their song and Betty squealed in delight when their friend returned back stage, clapping her hands together. 

Finally, the time came for them to dance. Betty had on a simple, pale blue leotard with an attached skirt, and bit back a smile when the guys from the jazz class carried them on stage in a well-orchestrated fumbling. She had so much fun with the silly dance, garnering laughter from the audience and ignoring what was sure to be the disapproving glare of Alice later. She watched, clutching the curtain and ignoring Cheryl’s spiked eyebrow, as Jughead moved energetically across the stage, thrusting his hips and gyrating slowly to the sounds of R. Kelly through the audience. She was breathless when he finished, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes traced up her body in the tight bodiced 50’s style dress she was wearing for Classic. He raced back to her once he’d changed: cuffed blue jeans, tight black t-shirt, perfectly coiffed hair. The errant curl above his right eyebrow even seemed in character. They ran on the stage together and she felt like throwing her head back to laugh as the curtain opened. Wolf whistles floated towards her from somewhere in the back of the audience when she stood in the center of the stage, one finger out in front of her, Jughead tugging on her free hand, and mouthed, along with the track, “Hey, where’s the drums?” Then the beat hit and she spun into Jughead’s chest, red lipsticked smile threatening to crack her face. The audience erupted when they were all done, and they lined up in a row to bow. She felt alive, clinging to the other dancers backstage, laughing with adrenaline. 

They watched for a bit as the small groups and partnerships from other classes started to perform. Midge and another ballerina, Sally, performed a beautiful rendition of the Fairy Dance from Cinderella, as the Winter and Spring Fairy, respectively, and Betty hugged them both tightly when they were done. Then an assistant backstage rushed them to the dressing rooms. They were the last performance of the night, and Betty felt the familiar pull of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Before she could start to spiral through the what if’s and the potential disasters, Jughead grabbed her hand one last time. He pressed a warm kiss to her cheek and smiled, then disappeared into his dressing room. Clinging to her cheek and blushing bright red, Betty walked, trance-like, through the dressing room door. Cheryl was there, rolling her eyes, and shoving Betty’s new costume into her hands. She handed the redhead the Classic dress, pulling the ribbed tank top and dance shorts on over her nude tights and sports bra. She sat in Cheryl’s chair, and listened to the other girl prattle on about nothing in particular while the actress did her hair and makeup. It was a simple look, natural looking makeup and her hair half pinned up in loose curls. Finally, Cheryl stepped back from the chair and clasped her hands in front of her. She took a picture suddenly, and then showed Betty. It looked...good, Betty thought. She told Cheryl so. 

“Of course it does, I’m a genius.” Cheryl grinned, a little maniacal. Then her face softened. “Plus, it helps to have a decent canvas to start with.”

Betty blushed and ducked her head. Cheryl handed her a pair of soft leg warmers. 

“Now, if Casanova out there won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you.” She said with a glint in her eye. “Archie is filming the whole thing so you can send it to Polly, since she couldn’t make it. Go break hearts.”

Betty clung to the leg warmers. “My mom is gonna kill me…” She whispered. 

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Alice Cooper is a demon from the depths of hell and I have no idea how she birthed you. Your dance is going to be incredible, she’s an idiot, and if she says so much as a word, I will rain hell on her so hard she won’t know which way to turn.”

Betty’s eyes widened at Cheryl’s serious tone, punctuated by her arms crossed over her chest and spiked eyebrow. “Sometimes, being friends with you is truly terrifying.” she remarked, sliding the leg warmers on and starting on her pointe shoes. “It’s incredible and I really do thoroughly enjoy it, but you scare me a little.”

Cheryl just smiled brightly and shrugged, air kissing next to Betty’s cheeks. “I know.” She looked positively delighted. “Now, I’m going to go make sure Archie didn’t give away my seat to some nobody. You’ll be majestic as usual, darling Betty.” She paused and looked appraisingly at Betty’s face. “Oo, I am magic with a makeup brush. Someone should hire me.”

Betty rolled her eyes, nerves forgotten. “Humility looks good on you, Cher.” 

The redhead looked affronted. “Never say that again.” She turned on one red stiletto and walked out of the room with a backwards wave. 

Betty met Jughead in the wings. The dance before theirs, a tap number from Singing in the Rain, was nearing to an end. He held his hand out to her, and she took it, squeezing tightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she took in his look. It was really very Jughead, she thought with a smile to herself. Faded black jeans with a tear in the knee, a worn green and grey flannel tied around his waist, soft grey S t-shirt, the crown shaped knitted beanie tugged low over his ears. Betty resisted the urge to brush back the curl escaping from under the cap. The director went on stage to announce their dance, and Betty leaned over to whisper in Jughead’s ear. 

“Did you just take those clothes from your suitcase, Juggie?” She said with a smile and a wink. She knew she’d seen that shirt before - he had a seemingly endless collection of the strange S t-shirts. 

He turned to her, looking her up and down, and winked. “Did you?”

She blushed. The curtain fell, and someone was rushing past them with the short, wheeled barre, locking it on stage for her. The director walked towards them, nodding, a smile at the corner of her eyes. Betty took a deep breath and started towards the bar. Then she turned back, squeezing Jughead’s hand one last time. 

“It looks good, Juggie. You look really good.” She smiled softly, voice barely a whisper. 

She turned and clutched the barre, moving into fourth position, one hand on the bar and one held aloft, perfectly arched, feet perfectly parallel. The curtain lifted and the music started, low and slow. She flexed, back arching, head falling back, bending nearly in half backwards. She could feel the audience take a breath inwards. She righted again, feeling Jughead come up behind her, knowing he would be there before his hand traced across her lower back.  _ My eyes are open wide, by the way, I made it through the day, _ Brent Smith crooned over the sound system. Betty dipped into a grand plie as Jughead slid on his knees, ending in front of her, facing her. His hand traced across her cheekbone, and she ducked her face into his hand. They made eye contact for a moment, and his face was so open, so earnest, she had to catch her breath. Then she came up again. She started going through what was, effectively, an adage en barre. Jughead was dancing in front of her, head tilted to one side, going through his own opening sequence, so much looser, swinging his legs from side to side while stretching his arms overhead.  _ I just saw Hailey’s Comet, she waved _ ...Jughead spun away, turned his head back to look at her, and did a clipped spin and jump sequence, opening his hands back out to her. With a serious face, she extended her right leg out and back, crossing her right arm in front of her chest, moving up to the toes of her left foot. Jughead slid back, away from her, and patted his chest, holding his arms out for her.  _ Tell my mother, tell my father, I’ve done the best I can _ ...She leapt into his arms, perfect pirouette held in midair as his hands wrapped around her waist, and he spun her in a circle, dropping so she was angled and he was clinging to her waist and her extended back leg... _ to make them realize, this is my life, I hope they understand. _ The continued to dance around each other, styles mixing and competing. When he arched his back smoothly at center stage, arm flying behind his head, she did a grand jeté across the stage, and he rolled perfectly underneath her, the crowd gasped. 

When the drum beat hit heavy at the end, _I’m not angry_ , Jughead lifted Betty at the end of a soutenu, her back to his chest, _I’m just saying_ , and she arched backwards, arms in fifth position over her head, _sometimes goodbye is a second chance_ , and threw her, across the stage and slid after, _sometimes goodbye_ , where she landed, knees to the floor and head in her hands, his arms sliding around her body, _is a second chance_ , and they froze there, bodies heaving, the entire crowd erupted. He could hear Cheryl’s shrill voice wooing, Archie hooting loudly, Melody and Val were shouting “Bravos!” and the other dancers in the wings had abandoned decorum. Jughead clung to Betty’s arm, listening to Sweet Pea’s heavy boots stomping against the floor and could picture, in his mind’s eye, Toni standing on her seat to see over the sea of people while she screamed for them. Fangs was shouting something that sounded like “¡Vaya!” repeatedly. Somewhere, Fred was whistling through his fingers. He wondered, for a moment, if his dad was in the audience, clapping with pride for him, but he knew - the chances of FP Jones being in that audience was about as likely as Alice Cooper being okay with their performance. The curtain dropped and finally, Jughead felt Betty move under him. They walked off stage together, hand in hand. 

Betty knew - Alice was going to be livid. But she couldn’t help but feel the glow of pride at their performance. Their friends rushed back stage, and she felt Archie’s crushing hug around both of them. Cheryl stood nodding, a small smile playing around her red painted lips. High praise from the Blossom Ice Queen. Finally, they were told to change, and their friends would meet them in the lobby. Jughead started to let go of her hand, but she tugged him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her head in his neck, breathing in the smell of sweat, the camp’s laundry detergent, and something like maybe leather polish. After a moment of surprise, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. She pulled back ever so slightly, put her hands on either side of his face, looking up into his eyes. 

“Thank you, Jughead Jones.” She whispered, breathy and eyes bright. “Thank you for everything. Don’t forget about me, yeah?”

“I never could, Betty. Even if I tried.” He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Then she smiled, shy but electric. Thankful that she was still wearing her pointe shoes, she went up en pointe, looking him in the eyes. In a burst of bravery, she kissed him. They were both still sweating, their faces covered in stage makeup, but his hands clung tight to her hips and he was kissing her back, urgently. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, it was over and Betty was retreating to her dressing room. She took a makeup wipe to her face, removing most of Cheryl’s incredible work, and got changed. 

Finally, she crept out to the lobby and saw Jughead, dance bag over his shoulder, talking to Archie, Cheryl, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni. Cheryl was looking at Toni with a shockingly soft smile on her face, and Jughead was rubbing the back of his neck. She walked over to them, and was greeted with an onslaught of congratulations. Fangs was exclaiming at his laughter for her ballet piece, and everyone was gushing at their Shinedown performance. 

“It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Toni exclaimed, “And I’ve been dancing since I was in diapers!” 

Jughead wrapped his arm around her shoulder, easy. “Betts did all the hard work,” he claimed. 

She swatted his chest, blushing. “That is so not true, Juggie.” Then her stomach fell somewhere to the bottom of her feet. 

Alice was standing a few yards away, eyes flashing with anger and arms crossed over her chest. The woman jerked her head, indicating for Betty to come.

“I better go, guys…” 

Jughead followed her gaze. Then he turned to whisper in her ear. “You were incredible, Betts. Never forget that.”

She smiled softly at the ground. Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs exchanged an uneasy look. Archie wrapped her in a hug, promising to text. Then Cheryl grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever gotten. 

“Remember” the tall, vicious redhead hissed in her ear. “I will raise hell, Betty Cooper. Just say the word.” 

Betty smiled, eyes a little watery. She turned to her friends and waved. Jughead’s hand lingered on her arm for a second longer. Then she walked over to her mother, head down. 

“Elizabeth Cooper, what the hell was that.” Alice hissed, grabbing Betty by the arm with her nails. 

Betty dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and tried to remember the way it had felt, Jughead’s arms holding her, safe and warm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, eating disorders are serious and dangerous. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please get help. If you live in the US, you can call NEDA's crisis hotline at (800) 931-2237. The way it is handled by the hospital in this chapter is not great. 
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? I love kudos and comments, and my tumblr is iamthececimonster. Thanks for reading!


	5. Summer 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no camp this summer. Betty gets help, Jughead falls apart, Archie doesn't really know what to do. 
> 
> It's a short one, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a very awkward and (imo) uncomfortable sex scene in this chapter, at the beginning. I meant for it to be awkward and a little uncomfortable. But if you don't want to read it, just...skip to like a quarter of the way down the chapter. 
> 
> Other TW: Mentions of cancer, mentions of gangs, mentions of Jughead being super depressed. 
> 
> Also Hal is super OOC in this chapter. In my defense, I started writing this fic before we found out about the whole Black Hood thing, and I was already too committed to change it.

Jughead woke up to his phone ringing somewhere near his head. It was about 1:00 in the morning, and he finally passed out on the dingy sofa in the dingier living room of his apartment. He answered the phone without looking, assuming it was another Serpent, trying to get him to do shit he did not want to be dealing with. 

“What?” he muttered into the receiver. 

“Juggie. I need your help.” Betty’s voice whispered over the phone line. 

Jughead sat up quickly, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Betty. What’s wrong?”

“Listen, Juggie. I’m...I’m going away tomorrow.”

“What!?” 

“No, just listen.” Betty sounded near tears. Jughead remained silent. “I’m signing myself into this clinic tomorrow. My mom doesn’t know. I called my dad, he said he’d pay. I need...i need help, Juggie.” her voice began to break. “But I need your help before I go. I know I shouldn’t ask but…”

“I’ll be there. I’m on my way now. I’ll call you when I’m closer.” Jughead stood up, throwing some extra clothes in his bag and pulling his boots on. 

“Jughead…” Betty sobbed into the phone. 

“Hold on, Betts. I’m on my way.” Jughead pulled his sherpa lined denim jacket off the back of the chair, and walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. “I gotta go so I can drive. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks.” 

Jughead texted Toni, telling her he’d be back in a few days, and drove as fast as he could. It was, technically, just over 2 hours from the city to Betty’s town just outside Hartford, but Jughead made it in 1 and a half, thanking the stars for a full tank of gas and a quiet night. He found the 24/7 diner he’d eaten burgers and milkshakes Betty and Archie, a few years passed, just before summer turned to fall and Betty had called him crying in the middle of the night for a different reason, what felt like it was a million years ago, and parked his bike in the gravel lot, walking the three remaining blocks to Betty’s house. He texted her as the house came into view.

_ Climb up the trellis. My window is open.  _

**_Are you out of your mind? Someone is gonna call the cops._ **

_ No one is awake to call the cops, Juggie. Get up here.  _

He laughed quietly to himself, and found the trellis, stark white against the brick of the house. The remnants of a climbing ivy clung to it desperately. Jughead adjusted the strap of his bag against himself, and began to climb, hoping it wouldn’t buckle under his weight. It held, and Jughead found himself at the window of a pale pink bedroom. 

“Hey there, Juliet.” He whispered. 

Betty’s head shot up, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy in the moonlight. Without another word, Jughead climbed in the window and crossed the room in a few steps. He sat on the bed and held Betty to him tightly. She white knuckled the front of his flannel and began to cry, silent sobs wracking her body. He rubbed her back, gently, trying not to cringe at her extruding vertebrae. 

“I’m so sorry” she whispered into his collar. 

“Betty. Betts. You have nothing to be sorry for.” he pulled her back, to look imploringly into her bright green eyes. “Betts, this is not your fault. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

Wordlessly, she reached out to the nightstand and pulled out a stack of tiny notebooks. Jughead recognized them, they filled his chest with panic and fear. She handed them to him. He looked a thousand questions at her. 

“I need you to burn them. Burn the ashes. I don’t want to die, Juggie. I don’t want to die.” Quiet tears poured down her face.

He pulled her close again, running his long fingers through her hair, and whispered soothingly. “You’re not gonna die, Betts. You’re gonna beat this thing. I promise.” 

She sniffled, leaning back for a tissue from the box by her bed. Jughead slid the stack of notebooks into his satchel, and put the satchel on the floor. He shouldered out of his jacket and tossed it on top of his bag, kicking his shoes in the general direction as well. He then sat cross legged on the narrow bed, facing Betty. 

“Do you think…” she started, and then paused, and then started again. “Do you think I’ll still be beautiful? If I’m not sick?” She spoke mostly to her hands clasped in her lap. 

“What!?” Jughead grabbed her hands, gently running his thumbs across her knuckles. “Betty. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world.” 

The dark haired boy then realized what he said and his mouth snapped shut almost comically. He looked down at their intertwined fingers.

“Kiss me, Juggie.” Betty moved closer, their knees were touching now. 

“Betty, I…” 

She took one hand and traced his jawline. “Jughead, please. Kiss me.”

He just stared at her for a moment, leaning into her hand - it was cold and chapped where it had once been warm and soft. Her eyes, though, they were the same. Such bright green, so full of light. She looked at him like he could change the world, and when she did, he believed it might be true. So, he closed his eyes and kissed her. Her lips were cold, and he could taste the salt of her tears, but she kissed back, moving her hand from his jaw to his hair, running her fingers through it, under his beanie. With the hand that was no longer intertwined with hers, Jughead ran his fingers down Betty’s arm and started tracing lines on the skin of her thigh. 

Suddenly, as though with a sense of urgency, Betty deepened the kiss, leaning forward, nearly straddling Jughead. She pushed his flannel off his shoulders, leaving only a worn t-shirt. She pulled him closer, one hand on his upper thigh and one hand on the back of his head. She tugged the beanie off his head, and with the other hand, moved his hand to her lower back. Betty was wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, and Jughead could feel goosebumps erupting all over her skin. 

“Betty.” Jughead pulled back momentarily, “Betts, what are you doing.”

“Please, Juggie.” she leaned back to him. 

“Betts…”

“I want this. I want you, Juggie.” 

Were he a better man, Jughead thought to himself, he would have stopped her anyway. But he was weak, and she smelled like sweet flowers, and she wanted him to kiss her, so he did. He kissed her like she was oxygen and he was dying. Gently, so gently, he guided her to lay on the bed, and he laid next to her. Betty climbed on top of Jughead and he felt the breath escape his body. He nearly cried, she was so thin she felt barely weighed anything in his arms, but the miracle was that she trusted him. Again, Jughead thought he ought to stop this, and then she rolled her hips against his and he felt his brain erupt. 

“Betty…” he felt the name fall out of his mouth of its own accord. 

She fumbled with the button on his jeans for a moment until it popped open, and she pulled the zipper. Again, she rolled her hips against him and he hissed out a breath, leaning up. Forgetting, for a moment, the burn of a tattoo that awaited him when he returned. Forgetting, for a moment, that the girl on top of him, the girl he loved, was running away from home so she wouldn’t waste away to nothing. Forgetting, for a moment that he did not deserve the love she gave him, Jughead gave in. He kissed her, pushing his hand under her shirt, fingers skittering over her cold skin, trying not to count the keyboard ribs. She reached down and pulled the shirt over her head. Without thinking about it, Jughead leant down and captured one small nipple in his mouth, passing his tongue lightly over the raised flesh. Betty arched into him, and he switched sides, this time gently pulling with his teeth. Betty tugged his hair, breathing erratic. He moved back to kiss her lips while her fingers danced down his back and sides. She pulled his shirt over his head and smiled, running her fingers down his chest. 

Jughead lifted Betty gently, laying her down again on the bed, and covering her body with his, elbows propping him up. Betty tugged, urgently, on the waistband of his jeans until he shoved them down, one handed, kicking them off to the side of the bed. She shimmied out of her own shorts, leaving them pressed against each other with barely a whisper of cotton between them. Jughead kissed down the column of Betty’s neck, and like a prayer, she whispered his name. 

“Touch me, Jughead.”

He gasped. Gently tracing his fingers down her stomach, he pulled down the waistband of her panties, until she took hold of them and pushed them down her own legs, losing them in the growing pile on the floor. He slid his fingers into her warm center, letting out a breath. Unsure, he moved his fingers against the wetness, finding the small bundle of nerves and circling his fingers there while Betty gasped and pulled at his hair, tugging his mouth against hers. Slowly, he slid one finger inside of her, still tracing circles against her clit with his thumb. When he did, she bit his lower lip and tugged and Jughead thought he was going to lose it right then and there. After a moment, he slid another finger inside of her, pressing in and out gently, slowly, as Betty’s hips bucked and rolled and her hands begged for purchase against his back, scrabbling and raking her short nails against his skin. Suddenly, she tightened indescribably against his fingers, quietly crying his name into his collarbone. 

“Juggie.” Betty’s blonde hair was splayed out against her pale pink pillows and Jughead wanted to save that image forever. 

She tugged at his boxers, legs still shaking slightly. 

“Betts.” he kissed her temple, down the side of her face, landing on her lips. 

“I want you.” she whispered, voice shaking with pleasure. 

Jughead didn’t even have to think about it. Didn’t question whether or not this was right, whether he deserved this, nothing. He pulled his boxers down while Betty reached back into the drawer of her night stand and pulled out the foil wrapper of a condom. After a moment of fumbling, Jughead managed to slide it over his erection, and with a slow kiss, pushed into the beautiful blonde girl under him. 

He paused, catching his breath. She rolled her hips against his, taking charge, deciding how this would go. Jughead was used to this - used to Betty saying when they would go, when they would stop. He was more than willing to let her decide this, too, decide he was worth this. He would kiss her, endlessly, desperately. He began to catch up, sliding in and out, shallowly. Too soon, he felt his entire body tighten. 

“Betty, I’m…” 

“Let go, Jughead. Let go.” Betty ran her hand up and down his back, and wrapped her legs around his hips, chasing his release for him. 

He stiffened for just a moment and then felt the release, unlike anything he had ever felt before. After another breath, he rolled off Betty, and located the trashcan to toss the used condom into, near the bed. When he rolled back over, she was facing him, green eyes alight. He gently traced the lines of her face, noting the dark circles and her protruding cheekbones. 

“Hold me, Juggie?” she whispered, sweetly. 

Wordlessly, he pulled her to his chest, taking in the light floral scent that had become Her over the years. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, waiting for her breathing to even out, indicating she was asleep. 

The last thought Jughead remembered having was a refrain over the course of the last four years. 

“You’ll never be good enough for her, Jones. She’s too good for you.” 

 

Too soon, Jughead woke up to a sharp rap on Betty’s door - her mother. 

“Betty, you can’t sleep all day. Wake up.” Alice’s voice was like knives. 

Betty woke with a start, eyes wide. Then she seemed to notice Jughead, the way his arms were wrapped around her, and she smiled at him, shyly. 

“Morning, Juggie.” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth slightly. 

He smiled weakly. “Morning, Betts. How’d you sleep?”

“Really good. Thank you for coming.” 

She sat up, suddenly remembering where she had to go, what she had to do. Jughead sat up, too, and found his boxers in the pile on the floor. He finally noticed Betty’s small overnight bag in the corner by her desk. There was a letter on the desk, as well, propped up against the mirror there, labelled for Alice. He started getting dressed.

“Betty,” he spoke softly, “How are you getting to the clinic? Where is it?”

She shrugged. “I was gonna call a cab. It’s in Greenwich, it’s only an hour and a half. I have to be there in like 2 hours.”

“I’ll take you.” the words were out of Jughead’s mouth before he realized he’d thought them. 

She looked at him, silently pulling her clothes on.

“Betty, I can’t let you go by yourself. Please.” he silently prayed to whatever god might be listening that she would let him take her. 

“Okay.” 

 

Silently, the two finished getting ready to go. Betty swept her eyes over her room, knowing she’d probably never be back here. She had already mailed her ballet slippers and laptop to Archie to hold on to, along with a letter detailing the entire situation. It would arrive a few days after she was already in the clinic. She didn’t want to have to face him, his perpetually cheerful, optimistic smile, his pressing need to fix everything. She’d sent a letter to Polly in California, that would also arrive in a few days time. She knew Polly’d understand, not try to change her mind, but it was safer this way. She unlocked her bedroom door, knowing Alice would be back up soon, trying to force her to practice before breakfast. 

Jughead threw Betty’s small bag over his shoulder, hoping it would fit in the space behind the seats on his bike. They climbed back down the trellis, silently. Hand in hand, they walked to Pop’s Diner parking lot. Jughead thought for a moment about asking Betty if she wanted breakfast, but when he looked to ask her, he saw tears silently streaming down her face and thought better of it. He squeezed her hand, and then dropped it to attach the bag to his bike, stowing his bag under the seat. 

“Betty,” he spoke, finally.

She looked up at him, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.

“Why…” he thought for a moment. “Why did you call me? Why not Archie? Or Polly?”

She smiled, wetly. “Because I love you, Jughead.” she whispered, not trusting her own voice.

Jughead blinked for a moment. He said nothing. 

Handing her his spare helmet, he settled himself onto the seat, and extended a hand to Betty to help her on behind him. She squeezed him around the middle, tucking her face in between his shoulder blades. With a lurch, Jughead started the bike and headed toward Greenwich. 

 

They pulled into the parking lot of a low, secluded building. The grounds were a lush green, a sign welcoming them. Betty stood, handing Jughead back his helmet. A few spots away, she saw her dad’s sedan idling. Jughead stood as well, pulling his own helmet off and detaching her bag to give her. 

“Juggie, I’m scared.” She whispered, tears pouring down her face in ernest. 

He pulled her into his chest, breathing deeply, knowing he’d never be able to do this again. “Betty, you’re going to be just fine. I promise.” 

He heard a slight cough, and looked up to see Hal Cooper standing a few feet away with a briefcase and another suitcase. He pulled away from Betty slightly. She turned and saw her dad. 

“Oh. Daddy, this is my friend Jughead. He offered to bring me today.”

Jughead extended his hand to shake Mr. Cooper’s hand. A bit awkwardly, Mr. Cooper took in the bike, the worn flannel, the beanie, and the heavy boots. Jughead felt the burn of shame coil in his stomach.  _ Not good enough, Jones. _ Then Mr. Cooper shook Jughead’s hand, briefly. 

“Thank you, son.”

Jughead just nodded. Betty hugged him again, fiercely. 

“Thank you, Juggie.” she whispered into the collar of his denim jacket. 

He kissed the side of her face. “I love you, too, Betty.” 

Betty untangled herself, and looked up at her father. He nodded to Jughead, and they began walking down the pathway. Jughead watched them until they disappeared. With another lurch, and the thought that he always had, always would love the blonde angel with shining eyes he never deserved, he started the bike, taking the long way back to the city. 

 

Jughead stopped at a different 24 hour diner for lunch, and just stared into the cup of tar-like coffee they had given him. He picked at his fries dejectedly, thinking about Betty on her way to healing, FP on his way to jail. Suddenly, going home, to the empty apartment and the thought that his dad would be in prison for...well, Jughead would be graduated from college before FP would be out of prison, seemed remarkably unappealing. And Mustang. Mustang was gone, and it was FP’s fault, and Jughead was sure he’d never forget the man.

So, after driving aimlessly for another few hours, he found a camping area to park in for the night. He built a small fire, tossing the notebooks Betty handed him, one after the other, without opening them, into the flames. The flames seemed to whisper to him, taunting him.  _ She’s too good for you, Jones. You’ll never be good enough.  _

Into the star-studded darkness, Jughead whispered to no one in particular, “I’ll never stop loving you, Betty Cooper.”

He fell asleep next to the dying embers as they seemed to spell his worst fears to him.  _ Worthless.  _

 

Three days later, Jughead sat in a rickety chair in the White Wyrm with his teeth clenched as a grizzled old man with a dark red beard tattooed a curling snake on his upper arm. He wanted to close his eyes, to block out the pain, but every time he did, he just saw Betty’s bright green eyes shining with tears. He still hadn’t visited his dad in prison. He wasn’t sure he was going to. 

His phone rang in the pocket of his abandoned leather jacket halfway into the tattoo. He ignored it. 

 

A few hours later, he looked at his phone. 

4 missed calls - Archie Andrews. 

 

_ Worthless _ , his brain whispers in tune to the sting of his still bleeding tattoo. 

 

It rings again while he’s looking at it. Archie, again. Finally, he picks up, safe in the relative privacy of his dad’s...no, his...apartment. 

“Archie,” he grunts, pain radiating down his arm as the sofa cushion grazes his tattoo. 

“Jughead, have you heard from Betty? I just got this package, with this letter and her dance shoes…”

“Yeah, Arch. She...she went to get help, man.”

“Did she call you?”

“Yeah. I drove her to the clinic.”

“Oh.”

“I just live closer, Archie.”

“You love her, don’t you, Jughead?”

“I think I always have.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause for a moment - neither young man was used to such proclamations, true though they both knew they were. 

Then Archie spoke again. “Is she safe?”

Jughead nodded, then remembered Archie couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I looked up the place when I got back to the city. It’s state of the art. She’s hoping to be out before classes start in the fall. She said she’ll write if she can.” 

Archie nodded too, more to himself than Jughead. 

“She’s strong, Arch. She’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah.”

Two lost boys stared into their respective space, no Wendy Darling to grab them by the arm and give them the answers they were hoping for. A huge abyss seemed to span the distance between the phone line. Neither boy knew how to bridge it. Quietly, they said goodbye. 

 

Moments later, into the silent phone in his hand, Archie whispered, “My dad has cancer, Jughead.” 

And then he sobbed. 

 

Earlier that week, his mom had come home. Everything he hoped for. His parents were back living together! They were gonna get back together!

Then, that morning, they pulled him into the kitchen, presumably to talk about it. But he saw the look on his father’s greying face, and his stomach coiled in panic. 

“What’s wrong?” He looked from one parent to the other. 

“Archie, sweetie.” His mom gestured to the stool in front of her. “Sit down.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Archie felt his voice start to pitch, panic settling in his chest like an unwelcome beast. 

Fred Andrews let out a stream of air. “I have cancer, Archie.”

The words landed on Archie’s ears like cement. 

“What?” Archie breathed out, barely audible. He sat, finally, for fear of falling.

Fred griped the granite countertop. “I have cancer. I found out for sure yesterday. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure one way or the other. But, it’s Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and we caught it early. The prognosis is good.” 

“Oh god.” Archie felt like he was going to vomit. But then he steeled himself. “Okay, what do you need? I have some money saved up. I can put in more hours at the construction sites, I’ll call NYU and tell them I can’t come…” he started to babble. 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” his mom put up her hand. “What?”

“I can…” Archie started again. 

“No, Arch.” His dad spoke softly. “No. Your mom came home to take care of me. You don’t need to do anything, except focus on getting ready for school.”

“But…” Archie tried to interject. 

“No.” His father’s voice was firm. “We’ve worked too hard for this.  _ You’ve  _ worked too hard for this. You’re not giving up on your dreams because of this, son. I won’t have it.”

Archie gulped. He nodded, wordlessly. His mother came around the kitchen island and pulled him into a hug. A week ago, he would have given anything for his mom to be standing in his kitchen, hugging him. Right now, he wanted to be anywhere other than here. 

“Uh, can I go? I’ve got to work on some stuff.” he wriggled out of his mom’s embrace. 

His parents glanced at each other for a moment, and then nodded. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He slid off the stool and turned to walk up the stairs. 

When he got to the safety of his room, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled until he found Betty’s number. The contact picture was one of her with a flower crown that Jughead made for her, crooked over her bright blonde hair, laughing at something Archie had said. The picture was barely a year old, but it suddenly felt so long ago. He pressed the number, and listened to the phone ring for a moment, before going straight to voicemail. Archie furrowed his brow, checking the clock. It was after 1:00, there was no way Betty was still practicing. There was no other reason her phone would be off. He tried again. 

“Hi, this is the voicemail box of Betty Cooper. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and a brief message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!” her voice sounded tinny in the recording. 

“Uh...hey Betty. This is Archie. Call me, I guess. Uh...bye.” 

He sat, staring at his phone, willing it to ring, willing it to buzz with a text. He could practically see it -  

_ Hey Arch, sorry! I just turned my phone back on. Lemme call you in a minute, Alice is being a real bulldog. _

But no such message buzzed through. 

A moment later, his own mother called his name from the staircase, shaking him from his silent vigil. 

“Archie! There’s a package for you!” 

“Huh?” Archie asked his wall. He wasn’t expecting anything. He walked downstairs anyway. 

On the kitchen table sat a small cardboard box. His mom gestured towards it. 

“Says it’s from Betty Cooper.” His mom said with a small smile. “Friend of yours?” 

He felt his stomach settle somewhere around his shoes. Betty sent him a package and wasn’t answering his phone. Trying to force a normal looking smile, he answered his mother.

“Uh, yeah. I met her at that camp? She must have sent a care package since there’s no camp this year.” 

“Just a friend, then?” His mom wriggled her eyebrows. 

He balked for a second at her implication. “Uh, yeah, mom. Just a friend. I’m pretty sure she and Jughead have a thing, anyway.” 

He grabbed the package and tried not to run back up the stairs. As soon as he got to his room, he locked the door and tore it open. Her laptop and her pale pink ballet slippers slid out, along with a sealed envelope with his name on it. He tore the flap up, opening it. 

_ Dear Archie,  _

He began to read her tiny, immaculate handwriting. It was dated only a few days earlier. 

_ I know this was a terrible way to tell you, but, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Alice. But I’m safe, please know I’m safe.  _

_ I’ve gone to get help, Archie. There’s this really good clinic about two hours away from my mom’s house, my dad helped me find it. It’s not right, you know? The way mom made me believe, made me think. I’m afraid to die, Archie. My doctor said that if I keep losing weight the way I do, I could die. I don’t want to die.  _

_ I won’t be able to write for a while, but as soon as I can, I will. The lady on the phone at the clinic when I called said it’s usually only 2 or 3 months, so I should be out before classes start in August. I want to be healthy when I go to college. If I want to dance, I have to be healthy. This isn’t healthy. I feel so weak.  _

_ Please understand, Archie. Please don’t be mad that I didn’t tell you. It’s just, you’re so strong and I felt so weak.  _

_ I’m going to have Jughead pick up my notebooks and get rid of them. I don’t want to ever see them again. Alice is going to be so mad when she finds out. I think once I stop being petrified, I’m going to be very angry at her, too.  _

_ I’ll miss you this summer, Archie. I’ll miss your laughter the most, I think. Sing a song or two for me! _

_ Love you, Arch.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Betty _

_ P.S. Take care of Jughead, please. For me.  _

 

Without him realizing it, Archie had tears pouring down his face. A small part of him was glowing with happiness for his best friend, finally standing up to her mother. Finally getting the help she needed. After she collapsed last summer, Jughead and Archie had a whispered conversation on the fire escape of their dormitory, about how thin she had gotten, how worried they were. But a larger part of him was overcome by fear, sadness, and now guilt. He didn’t know what to do. He had expected Betty to know, to help him find the answer. She always did. He counted on her so much. 

Now she was counting on him. 

He wouldn’t let her down. 

With a ragged intake of breath, Archie Andrews roughly wiped his face clear of tears and picked his phone up again. He scrolled further until he found Jughead’s picture - an older one of the black haired boy, resolutely looking away from the camera and giving Betty, the person taking the picture, the finger. While it rang, he looked at the pictures of the three of them tacked up to his wall along with his high school football team pictures, a picture from the talent show at school, him and his dad on the tailgate of his dad’s old red truck, him and his dog asleep on the sofa. They were tacked up haphazardly, with no thought to organization or reason or progression of time, thumb tacks stuck messily through the pictures. Moose Mason, one of the other football players he was close with, had laughed and asked if Archie was ever going to replace the photographs with a poster of a girl in a bikini, even offering to buy Archie the poster himself. 

The phone rang and rang, reaching the voicemail. Archie rolled his eyes, guessing that Jughead was sleeping or eating, the other teen’s favorite activities aside from dancing. He hung up without leaving a voicemail and put the phone down for a second, knowing that calling back immediately would be useless. He looked closer at the first picture of the trio - camp counselors called them the Three Musketeers. Betty had insisted on the picture, sending them each a copy when it was finally developed. It became a tradition. Betty’s smile was always the brightest. 

He hit Jughead’s contact again a few minutes later, with the same result. Ring, ring, ring, voicemail.  _ Must be sleeping. _ Archie reasoned, turning his computer on. 

He thought to try to find the clinic where Betty was, but he realized she never called it by name in the letter. He opened his email inbox, finding a few unread subject lines regarding new student information. His stomach turned again, thinking of NYU. Pushing his computer away from him, he stood up. He put Betty’s laptop and charger, and her ballet slippers back in their box, closed the box, and put it on the top shelf of his closet, covering it with a sweatshirt reading Northside Football. He tucked the letter into the top drawer of his desk. He paced his room for a few seconds before flopping back on his bed. He opened Netflix, trying for distraction. Some mindless humor for a few hours while he waited to call Jughead again. 

He fell asleep 20 minutes into the Sandlot. 

An hour and a half later, he woke up to a dead laptop screen and the faint light of dusk filtering through his blinds. He looked at his phone. One text from Moose, asking about hanging out later in the week. He ignored it. Jughead had not responded. 

He called again, hoping that Jughead had not turned his ringer off before falling asleep. Voicemail, again. Panic started to curl into his chest again, and he threw the phone down. He ran through all the reasons Jughead might be ignoring him. 

He could just be sleeping still. 

Could be at a double feature with the ringer on his phone turned off. 

Maybe his dad was in some kind of trouble. 

Maybe Jughead was in some kind of trouble. 

Maybe Jughead was dead… 

Abruptly, Archie cut his own thoughts off in his mind and pressed the contact again. Ring, ring, voicemail. 

By the fifth call, panic was rising to bile in his throat. 

Then he heard Jughead’s voice, gruff, on the other end of the phone. Immediately, the panic dulled to a quiet purr against his breastbone. Jughead explained in his quiet, clipped way - Betty was safe, getting help. For a few weeks, at least, that was going to have to be enough for Archie. They hung up, and the air around Archie seemed a little more breathable. He went to dinner with his family. 

 

That summer, Archie threw himself into hard labor at his dad’s construction company. As he grew, his dad seemed to shrink, losing what little hair he had left and spending hours on the sofa in the living room. Slowly, letters started coming from Betty - she was doing really well, and the doctors thought she might still be able to dance. He wrote back every time. Every time he got a letter, he texted Jughead, keeping his unspoken promise to Betty. 

 

That summer, Jughead threw himself half heartedly into the Serpents. Tried to ignore the emails from the Conservatory filling his inbox and the nagging thought that he should visit his dad in prison. When Betty sent the first letter, he read it 5 times and cried like a baby, shaking. He slept with the letter under his pillow the first night, but the whole night he tossed and turned, hearing the word  _ Worthless  _ whisper in his window all night long. The next day, Archie texted him. He texted back, vague and closed off. He put the letter in a locked box in the closet. He read the second letter once, read the implied question of “Why haven’t you written me back, Juggie?” and shoved it in the box with the first one. The third and forth went in unread. After that, the letters stopped coming. Every week or so, Archie would text him, asking how he was. After about a month, he stopped answering those, too. 

 

That summer, Betty through herself into getting healthy. Tried not to think about her growing waistline as a bad thing. Tried not to think of her mother’s words bouncing off the walls of her brain at all. Tried not to wonder about Jughead, why he wasn’t responding. Instead, she focused on herself, finally, for the first time. Focused on the strength returning to her body, slowly. Focused on feeling good. Not perfect. Good. She stopped writing to Jughead, but hoped Archie wouldn’t give up on their friend. 

 

At the end of the summer, Archie’s dad, 2 months into chemotherapy and 2 more months to go, with the promise of a clean bill of health at the end of all, hugged him tightly after Archie packed up the bed of the aging blue Mustang with all his stuff for college. Promised to visit as soon as he got the okay from the doctor. A week previously, Archie had sent the laptop and slippers to Betty’s dad’s address, with a letter attached, exclaiming his praise for her successful completion of the program and a promise to keep in touch no matter what happened at school. He drove away from his childhood home, watching his dad wave and his mom struggle to keep his old dog from chasing after the car. A box of pictures from the wall sat in the seat next to him. 

 

Two weeks before they were supposed to leave for the conservatory, Toni stormed into Jughead’s apartment unannounced. The pair were planning on going to the conservatory together. Far away, they had said, so many states away even the snakes couldn’t follow them. She flipped the light switch, shaking back her pink hair as light flooded the tiny room.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence. 

“I told you, I’m not going, Toni.” Jughead grumbled. 

“And I told you that was bullshit, Jug.” Toni pulled him by the shoulder. 

“I can’t go, Toni. You know that.”

“You know I know that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re acting like a real prick right now, Jughead, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing, stupid.” she said, fondly. “It’s not like you’ve told them you aren’t coming. I know you better than that.”

“But the…”

“The Serpents won’t follow us to Virginia, idiot. Pack your bags. Tell Red to sublet this fire hazard. We’re leaving in two weeks. Either you ride your bike down there, or I get Sweet Pea to strap you to the roof of my car.” Her dark eyes flashed. 

Jughead gulped, recalling the flash of light in bright green eyes. He pushed his fingers through his long hair. Finally, he nodded. 

“Fine. But you’re helping me pack.” He grunted. 

Toni flashed a smile. “About damn time, Jones.”

He glared at her, saying nothing. 

Softly, after a moment, she spoke, barely audible. “You’re already good enough, Jug. Always have been.” 

Then she turned on her heel, towards the small kitchenette. Pulled some boxes from the porch, throwing them at her best friend. 

 

The end of that summer found Betty wrapped in a blanket on her father’s sofa. She sipped a mug of hot chocolate, ignoring the itch to record the calories. In her father’s office, a phone rang. 

“Hello?” Hal answered. “What? Fine. Give me a second.”

He walked into the living room, giving Betty an apologetic face. “It’s your mother,” he whispered. “She says she’ll keep calling unless you speak to her.” 

Betty rolled her eyes, gesturing for her father to give her the phone. 

“What, mother?” she barked into the phone. 

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?” Alice gasped on the other end. 

“I almost died because of you, so, I say yes.” Betty had no patience for her mother’s refusal, all summer long, to see where she did anything wrong. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this is my fault. I tried to make you better.”

“No, Mother. You tried to kill me, or near as good as. So no. I won’t tell you where I’m going to school. I won’t call, I won’t write, and I won’t visit. Good bye. If you want to apologize, and acknowledge that you nearly killed your daughters, you can write my father. Until then, stop calling or I will get a restraining order.” 

Abruptly, cutting Alice off, Betty ended the call, handing the phone back to her father. 

The next day, they went to get her a new phone, with a new number. She texted Archie and Polly immediately, letting them know. Several hours later, as she laid on the bed her father had made up for her in the guest room, she texted Jughead’s number from memory. 

_ I had to get a new number. I just wanted you to know. In case. I’m not sure what happened, but I miss you, Juggie.  _

It didn’t occur to her until several weeks later, halfway through lunch with her new roommate at her school in Western Pennsylvania, but she had never said who it was that was texting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you. You're amazing. Just one chapter left!
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments make me feel alive. My tumblr is iamthececimonster


	6. Summer 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retribution. Answers. Forgiveness. Hope for the future!
> 
> (And Veronica. Finally. Bless her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one! No notable TWs in this one. Sorta angsty, mostly happy though.

Betty carefully regarded the plate on her tray - perfectly portioned, all the major food groups. Her mother would have grimaced at the gumbo and rice and told Betty to have a salad instead. Betty grimaced at the thought, and looked at the giant chocolate sheet cake with blue and yellow icing spelling out “WELCOME COUNSELORS” on the display in front of her. She shook her head and used the tongs to put a slice on her plate. Overbearing mothers be damned. 

She walked out of the serving line and surveyed the cafeteria in front of her. There were a few other instructors sitting at the long seats, some of them clearly knew each other. She wondered if she should sit with some of them, but the idea made her cringe. And besides, she had told Archie, Cheryl, and her roommate Veronica that she’d save them seats. Archie was so excited to be back as well, teaching guitar and singing classes. Cheryl had pretended, sitting at her vanity seat in their dorm room at Point Park and rolling her eyes at Betty in the mirror, that she wasn’t excited to be helping with the drama classes this summer, but Betty had seen the secret smile she tried to hide when she got the job offer. Veronica, the third girl in their dorm room, and easily one of the best friends Betty had ever had, had applied at Betty’s insistence, to teach singing and acting. When the three girls found out they’d be working together that summer, Cheryl had somehow procured a bottle of champagne, and Veronica had ordered cupcakes from this delightful little bakery in downtown Pittsburgh, and they celebrated. Cheryl had rolled her eyes when Betty told her about Archie, but Veronica had raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at the idea of spending some quality time with Betty’s old friend.

And so, she found a row of empty seats and sat down, pulling down the sleeves of her pale pink wrap sweater and pulling out her phone. It had a few messages, so she pulled down on Archie’s first.

**Walking in now. Sorry I’m late.** Archie texted her. With a small smile, she responded. 

_ You know, that poor car probably wants to retire.  _ Archie still drove that old blue Mustang, and it was definitely getting to the point where the drive from NYU to eastern Pennsylvania was hurting it. 

**Don’t you dare, Betty Cooper. Big Blue is timeless.** Regardless of the fact that his poor vehicle was ready to fall apart at the seams, Archie defended the monstrosity.

_ Then why are you late, Arch? _

**We’re not talking about this. :P**

_ Yeah, fine. I saved you a seat. There’s cake. _

Then she looked at the selfie Veronica sent her. She was in the backseat of a dark town car, holding a brightly colored box with SPRINKLES CUPCAKES on the lid. The caption read  Best cupcakes in Manhattan. I had to stop before I got there, but I’m less than 20 minutes away now. Is Archie there?

_ He said he’s on his way. Did you get chocolate? _

After a moment, the brunette responded.  Did I get chocolate? Are you my best friend, or what, B?

Betty laughed.  _ See you soon, V.  _ She shoved the dry chocolate cake on her tray to the side in favor of Veronica's cupcakes.

She responded to a text from Polly, telling her she was safe at camp and eating gumbo and Veronica was bringing cupcakes from Manhattan. Polly excitedly told her to have fun, take pictures, enjoy the time. 

Cheryl texted then,  _ Ugh, some people at this campus are so pedestrian. _

_ Cher, you’re a snob. I’m in the cafeteria _ . Betty rolled her eyes, and then saw Archie walk through the entrance.  _ Archie just got here, V said she’s on her way. She’s bringing Sprinkles Cupcakes from Manhattan. _

_ I haven’t unpacked, Blondie. _

_ Get your ass over here, Cheryl. _

_ You’re a nightmare. _

 

Ten minutes later, Betty was sitting next to Cheryl, across from Veronica and Archie, who were already shoulder to shoulder and flirting. Archie had a new video from Josie and the Pussycats, who had gotten back together when Josie realized she didn’t really want a solo tour without “her girls.” They were currently touring in California, and Melody had sent Archie a youtube video from their last show in San Francisco. They still wore the cat ears and the leopard print, and Betty smiled as she watched them perform.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Betty was painfully aware of the missing link at their table, the dark haired dancer with a crown beanie and a sardonic smile who had held her hand the first time she ate a cupcake and danced with her like he was made for it. It was almost a year to the day since she had last seen Jughead Jones, and nearly as long since she had heard from him. She was pretty sure he had kept in contact with Archie a little longer, but they had silently agreed to not talk about it. So, Betty tried to focus on the happier things in life, the things she had control over. Not flannel-wearing, reluctant hipsters with motorcycles and hands that touched her like she was an angel, like she was porcelain and everything beautiful in this world. She tried to move on. She was pretty sure she wasn’t successful, but she tried.

Betty refocused on the video, a new song being counted in by Melody’s drumsticks. Then she heard Cheryl gasp next to her. 

“What is it, you drama queen?” Betty asked with a roll of her eyes. 

Cheryl was looking at the entrance, one long, manicured nail pointing towards two people walking towards the line for food. “Jughead’s here.”

Betty turned her head so fast, she was pretty sure her neck cracked. 

  
  


Sure enough, Jughead Jones was there, standing next to a tiny, pink haired girl in ripped fishnets and chunky combat boots and a scowl. Toni. Betty remembered her - Jughead’s childhood best friend. She was staring, she knew, but then, as if he felt her gaze, Jughead froze and looked up, making eye contact with her. Her eyes widened, and he looks like the proverbial deer in headlights. He had gotten, somehow, impossibly, more beautiful. He still wore that beanie, a prince with his lopsided crown, still had a flannel tied around his waist. His cheekbones were somehow sharper, his shoulders looked broader, and Betty felt her throat turn to cotton. 

Behind her, Veronica, Archie, and Cheryl were having a whispered conversation. 

“Jughead? As in...THE Jughead?” Veronica whispered urgently. 

“Really, Veronica? How many Jugheads do you think there are in this world?” Cheryl’s voice was biting, but without venom. She was looking at Betty with concern. 

“Yeah, no, fair point Cher. Archiekins, did you know he was coming?”

The guitar player looked almost terrified. “I haven’t talked to him since...Christmas, maybe? And even that was just me saying Merry Christmas, and him saying you too. I had no idea.” He grimaced. “You don’t think I’d’ve said something if I knew?”

Betty was still staring at the dark haired dancer across the room like a woman possessed. Then Toni, who looked contrite, almost guilty, tugged on his arm and dragged him towards the food line. Finally, they broke eye contact, and slowly, Betty turned around. She pressed the pads of her fingers into her upper thighs, closed her eyes, breathed slowly, and counted to ten silently. Then she opened her eyes to all of her friends staring at her with bated breath. 

“Well, fuck.” She breathed out. 

 

Before anyone could think of anything to say, Toni was dragging Jughead towards their table. He looked reluctant and embarrassed, but the tiny, pink haired girl was shockingly strong and twice as stubborn. She dropped her tray next to Cheryl’s with a thunk and gestured Jughead to the seat next to Archie, across from her. 

“So this is fucking awkward, no?” Toni said, a little too loudly.

Cheryl sneered. “Is that what we’re calling it, Queen of the Buskers?”

“Bombshell. A pleasure, as always. You’re looking radiant.” Toni rolled her eyes. 

Cheryl just scoffed, but Betty saw the telltale smirk at the corner of her lips. She was pleased to see the girl, no matter what she said to the contrary. Veronica looked around the small group. Archie was staring at his former roommate, brows furrowed and jaw set. Best friendships built over milkshakes, late nights, and earlier mornings be damned, he was hurting. For himself, and for Betty. Jughead was staring at his tray, a tendon in his neck twitching. Betty was staring at the top of his head like she was trying to burn a hole through it, while somehow also looking like she wanted to run, as fast as she could, as far as she could. Toni and Cheryl were having some kind of weird staring showdown that looked suspiciously like foreplay, and Veronica shook her head. Then she clapped cheerfully and everyone looked at her. 

She extended her hand across the table. “I’m Veronica Lodge. Sorry to be late to the party, but I don’t think we’ve met.” 

Toni appraised the Park Avenue Princess, with her sleek black dress and signature pearls, but took the offered hand anyway. “Toni Topaz. And this brooding disaster,” She swatted Jughead’s arm across the table, “is Jughead Jones.”

Veronica offered her hand to Jughead and with a blank face, he shook it. “This look is very Holden Caulfield, darling” she told him with a smile. 

He smirked, speaking for the first time. “That guy’s a fucking prick. Find a better analogy, I beg of you.” 

Veronica blinked back her surprise and smiled. “I suppose you’re right.” She then grabbed the box next to her. “Cupcake? I brought them from Manhattan, and there’s only two left.” 

Toni raised an eyebrow. “You went to Manhattan for cupcakes?”

“I live in Manhattan, Joan Jett.” She said with a sunny smile. 

Toni looked down at her worn flannel and tight tank top and then back up at the girl offering her cupcakes. “Eh, I’ll take it. Thanks, Princess.” She grabbed the box, and shoved it under Jughead’s nose. 

He opened the lid, and in spite of himself, his eyes lit up at the artisan cupcakes, and grabbed the one with a peanut butter cup nestled in the icing. “Thanks, Veronica.” 

She clasped her hands in front of her. “You’re quite welcome.” 

Betty still hadn’t spoken. She was looking down at the rest of her her gumbo, swirling her fork through the warm stew, knowing she should eat the rest, but finding herself suddenly unable. Archie was watching this happen, and Jughead followed his gaze. Both boys stared at the blonde fiddle with the food on her plate. Then they made uncomfortable eye contact, unspeaking. Finally, Cheryl rolled her eyes and spoke. 

“So have we all just collectively decided to ignore the fact that Jughead bolted like, a year ago, and hasn’t talked to anyone since? Or are we gonna address that?” She sneered, frustrated and angry and painfully aware of the fact that Betty had stopped eating next to her. 

Jughead jumped back a little. “I…” He started, and then stopped. Betty looked up, eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, staring at her. 

Suddenly, she jumped up from the table, leaving her tray, and bolted out of the room. She knew she was making a scene, running out of the cafeteria, tears flowing down her face. Behind her, Archie and Veronica stood up, calling after her, but she ignored them. Jughead sat, frozen. Then, at the same time, Toni and Cheryl yelled at him, matching glares. 

“Follow her, you idiot!” they cried, gesturing out the door. 

He abandoned his food, hoping that Toni would take care of it, and bolted after Betty. 

 

He caught up to Betty underneath the weeping willow outside the cafeteria building. She was sitting against the trunk, wrapped in a ball, shoulders shaking with sobs. He approached, quiet, and sat down in front of her, putting a hand on her arm. She flinched and he pulled his hand away immediately. 

“I’m so sorry, Betts. I’m so, so sorry.” He whispered. 

She looked up, eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell is wrong with you, Jughead?”

He leaned back, choking on his words. “I...I have no explanation. No good one.”

She just raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. “You better fucking find one, Jones. You fucking ABANDONED me. You drove me to a fucking eating disorder clinic and then abandoned me. You...you made me fall in love...I loved you and you abandoned me.”

“I never deserved you, Betty.” Jughead looked down at his hands. “I was trying to protect you, you have to understand that.” 

“From what, Jughead? I was already dying, how much worse could it get?”

He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands, tugging at the edge of his beanie. Finally, he sighed and began to talk. He just hoped she’d listen. 

“First of all, you have to know, I had no idea you’d be here. I got an invitation to apply from the director, so I did, and I convinced Toni to apply, too. If I had known, I would’ve...I don’t know. I would’ve told you. Or I wouldn’t’ve come. I’m sorry.” 

Betty just rolled her eyes. 

Before she could say anything, he continued. “I’m...I got out, ya know? Toni, she threatened to tie me to the roof of her Jeep if I didn’t leave, but.” He took a deep breath. “I got into the conservatory in Virginia I told you about. I was gonna tell you, but...the next morning, my dad got arrested. Again. For, among other things, accessory to murder. The details are...well, it’s a lot, but basically, some gang business went wrong, and Mustang - you know, my dance instructor? He ended up shot, and FP Jones ended up in jail. So, no more dance studio, no more dear old Dad, and I just. I broke, I guess. Toni, she. Well, Fangs is creepily good at forging, so she and him sent off my papers to the conservatory and my financial aid documents without telling me, because I didn’t leave my bed for almost a week. Then Sweet Pea came over, threw me, fully dressed, into the shower, and told me if I wasn’t in school on Monday he was going to kick my teeth in. I made them all promise they had to graduate, and so I guess he took it personally that I had given up so quickly, or whatever. But, when I called my mom in Toledo to let her know that my dad was in prison, she just told me she expected it eventually, that all Jones men were the same, and I was probably going to end up the exact same way.” He paused, squinting his eyes at the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Juggie…” Betty whispered, her eyes wide. 

He shook his head and continued. “I kept wanting to call, to tell you. But I just. My dad was in prison, I was barely making it through every day. I had abandoned my shot at the conservatory. I figured I didn’t deserve someone like you, didn’t deserve your sympathy, your kindness. So, instead of telling you, or Archie, or anyone, I just. Kept going on. And then when rent was due on my dad’s apartment, his second in command showed up with a jacket and the promise of taking care of everything. It was that, or be homeless, so I took the jacket. I hated myself every time I put it on, but I didn’t see another choice. And by that time, I couldn’t bear to tell you. Eventually, Toni and Fangs told me about the conservatory, because I kept getting emails from them and I was pretty fucking confused. I told Toni I wasn’t going. She punched me in the face when I said that. I know she’s tiny, but. She’s terrifying, and strong, and it hurt. Then, you called me, begging for help, and… Betty, I have always loved you so much, and I couldn’t protect you. The last thing you needed was me dragging you down. You were being so brave, so strong. And I couldn’t bear to burden you with my bullshit. Two of my best friends were in a gang, and the only reason Toni wasn’t was because she refused to strip in a room full of dudes old enough to be her dad…”

“What the fu…” Betty started. 

“Long story, I’ll explain later.” Jughead shook his head again. “Anyway, finally, at the end of the summer, like I said. She threatened to have Sweet Pea tie me to the roof of her Jeep if I didn’t pack my shit and go with her to Virginia - she had gotten in, too. Just like we always planned. Leave the Serpents, leave New York behind, get the hell out. So, I did. Sweet Pea and Fangs moved to Florida together. Sweet Pea is going to trade school and working in a garage. His drag races are...much more professional, now. And Fangs is in art school, if you can believe it.”

Betty found herself smiling at that. She was happy for them. 

“Anyway, so we got to Virginia. And shit, Betts. College level dancing is fucking hard. But it felt so good. God, it feels so good.” He smiled, shakily. “But I...I wasted too much time. I got that text, from the new number. I was sure it was you, but. I didn’t think I deserved to talk to you. I knew you needed me, and I fucked it up. I ghosted you when you needed me the most. I figured it was best to let you go. I mean, I was never good enough for you. The son of a gang leader with barely a penny to his name who ran and hid when shit got hard? You deserved better. Someone like...I don’t know, someone like Archie. Stable, consistent, there. Easy. Someone who wouldn’t give up on you.” He looked back down at his hands, blinking back tears. 

Betty’s hand covered his. “Jughead.” she spoke softly. “Jughead, look at me.” 

He looked up. Her green eyes were warm, honest, and it was almost painful to look at her. 

“You should’ve told me. I wish you had told me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he started to speak, but she cut him off. “But I know why you didn’t. But you...you say you never deserved me. And that’s just not true, Jughead. That’s never been true. God, half the time I was being brave, I was being brave because I thought about what you would say. What would Jughead tell me to do, I would wonder. What would make Jughead smile? I missed you. I missed you so much it hurt. But, you left. You left, and I had to get better. It...it was hard, Jughead. God, it was hard. And it hurt. It’s still hard. But, I’m doing better now. Not great, there are bad days. But better. I got into school in Pittsburgh, I moved out of Alice’s house. I’m...I’m doing ballet and modern, at school. And taking some education classes. I might become a dance teacher.”

“God, Betts. That’s...that’s incredible.” Jughead’s voice was hushed, but filled with pride. 

“It would’ve been better if I had you, too.” She seemed sad. 

“I’m so, so sorry.” He traced circles in the grass underneath him. “I know I don’t deserve it, but...can you ever forgive me?”

Betty sighed. “Oh, Juggie. I already forgave you. There was never a question.”

“Right, but.”

“But nothing, Jughead. You’re...I...we’re best friends, Jughead. I was angry, and I’m still hurting, but I forgave you a long time ago.” Betty bit her lip, toyed with the hem of her sweater. The “I loved you” sat on the tip of her tongue, unsaid.

 

Just then, the director of the camp walked up. “Oh good, Jughead, Betty. I was hoping to find the two of you together.”

Both young adults turned to the stern woman, eyebrows raised, and then looked at each other, confused. 

She looked at both of them appraisingly. “You both look well. I have a question. Or a favor. A request.”

“Ma’am?” Betty questioned. Jughead tugged on his beanie, scuffed his boot in the grass. 

“So you both remember, I’m sure, that we have an opening talent show activity? It’s open to older students, and counselors often perform as well?”

Both Betty and Jughead nodded, looking at each other. Wondering where on earth this was going. 

“Is there any chance you remember the choreo to your dance from your final showcase? We’re trying to encourage students to branch out, to try new styles, not to be so stuck in one way, and your dance is the perfect way to showcase that.”

Jughead blinked like he was waking up from a nap. 

Betty felt like her face was on fire, but she pushed through the awkward feeling bubbling in her stomach. “How does Madame Sokolov feel about that?”

The director bit back a smile at the mention of the incredibly strict ballet instructor. “Well, she recognizes that change is coming. And she thoroughly enjoyed your performance, surely you both knew that? She was very impressed. She actually recommended that I ask you to perform it this summer.”

It was Betty’s turn to blink like she was waking up from a nap and Jughead’s turn to blush like his face was on fire. 

“So, you’ll do it?” The director asked, staring hard. 

The pair looked at each other, questioning. Betty bit her lip, Jughead tugged his beanie. He shrugged. 

“Do you remember the choreo?” He asked Betty, voice low. He likely wouldn’t be able to forget it if he tried, but…

“Do you?” Betty asked, voice sharper than she meant it to be. Then she turned to the director. “Ma’am, may we have a few days to figure out if we still know the dance?”

“Oh, sure. Just let me know by the time camp starts, if you could?”

Betty nodded, and the director walked away. 

“Betts…” Jughead heard the nickname slip out before he could catch himself. “Betty, that’s less than three days.”

Betty almost choked when she heard Jughead’s old nickname for her slip out, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she felt the air get knocked out of her chest when he corrected himself. “Well then, we better get to work, hadn’t we?”

Jughead paused. “Can...can we finish lunch?”

Betty laughed in spite of herself. “Yes, Jughead. Your appetite knows no bounds, we can finish lunch. Let’s go.” 

 

They walked back into the cafeteria, next to each other but not quite as close as they once would’ve been. So many things were left undiscussed, unspoken and covered in a shaky layer of dust. But when they sat back down together and went back to eating the now lukewarm gumbo on their trays without a word to any of their friends, the other four shared an uneasy look. Cheryl opened her mouth, but Archie shook his head, hard and short. Veronica’s eyes were wide, and Toni looked a little like she might be developing a migraine. 

“So, uh, what’s everybody doing this summer? I know Betty and I actually have to watch campers, but I’m not sure about anybody else.” Archie asked, voice loud and awkwardly forced, but bless him, he couldn’t just let the terribly uncomfortable silence sit. 

“Someone put you in charge of actual children, Andrews?” Cheryl asked with a sneer. “Those poor children.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. 

“Fuck off, Cheryl.” Archie droned, taking a bite of his cake. 

She just winked. 

“Uh, I’m working with the beginners’ hip hop class.” Toni offered after swallowing a too-large gulp of water. 

“I’m working with singing and acting, as is Cher, and it’s been requested that I assist in the advertising department. Business expertise in a social media age.” Veronica offered with a not-entirely humble shrug.

“Advertising department?” Toni asked. 

“They want me to run their Instagram. And their Twitter. For the summer. They said they had a decent photographer, which I hope is true. They wouldn’t tell me who it is, so I had no hope of scouting the talent before I got here…” She trailed off, looking rather put out. 

Toni smiled a little. “I know who the photographer is.”

Veronica’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, darling, you must tell me immediately! What’s their Instagram handle?”

Jughead coughed. “TopazPhotography, all one word, capital T, capital P.”

“You know them, too, Jug?” Archie looked confused. 

Veronica was already swiping through her phone. “Wait…”

“I’m the photographer.” Toni drolled. 

Veronica clapped her manicured hands together gleefully. “But this is wonderful! You’re incredibly talented, Miss Topaz!”

Betty, looking over Veronica’s phone at the photos, privately agreed. There was a still shot of Jughead and a couple other dancers, mid-practice. Jughead wasn’t wearing a shirt, and there was an intricate serpent tattoo etched on his shoulder and his chest was covered in sweat and Betty felt her heart start to race. 

“Wait, is this Jughead dancing to… Kiss Kiss by Chris Brown and T-Pain?” Archie was smiling, almost laughing. 

Jughead groaned. “Toni was doing a throwback series, and that video has some good choreography…”

“I did point out in the caption that we originally danced to this song before we knew Chris Brown was a creep, and it was integral to Jones’ growth as a dancer.” 

Cheryl smirked. “I have absolutely no words. Andrews, the video, please.” 

Archie fiddled with his phone for a second, pulling up a YouTube video, and then put his phone flat on the long table. Jughead buried his head in his arms. Toni smirked. The video started and Betty pressed the pads of her fingers into her thighs as Jughead’s face appeared on the screen, furrowed brow and a cocky smirk. He was wearing his beanie, a faded red S t-shirt, grey hoodie, dark jeans, with the low-hanging suspenders and the flannel around his waist, his boots. The music started, his limbs started moving, and Betty was pretty sure she forgot how breathing worked. The choreo was sharp, and then the video split. One side of the screen was recent Jughead, and the other side was a shaky video of a Jughead who looked about 10 years old - skinny, in too-baggy clothes, the beanie the same, but less worn, too big for his tiny head, shaggy curls still falling out of the front. It was honestly adorable, the way young Jughead’s too-long limbs followed the same sharp choreo. 

“Oh this is the best thing I’ve ever seen. T, you say there’s more?” Cheryl was gleeful, which was always a little terrifying. 

Toni grabbed Archie’s phone and scrolled for a moment, until she found the video she was looking for. Music started, and an absolutely tiny Jughead, no more than five years old, was on the screen, video quality staticky and pigmented. 

“Is this Yeah! by Usher?” Veronica asked as the tiny Jughead started bouncing on his toes in a worn pair of Converse high tops. 

Jughead groaned again. “Our friend Fangs, his older brother, uh…” He paused, looking pained. “Anyway, he was watching MTV, and the music video for this came on. He was supposed to be babysitting us, I think, which makes no sense because he was like 3 years older than us, but, you know. I started dancing along, and he got a video with a shitty cell phone, which Toni found when, uh...well, we found it in his closet, is the point.” 

“This is an incredibly dirty song for a...what, five year old?” Veronica was trying very hard not to laugh. Then the current Jughead flashed on the screen, in a pair of worn converse high tops, grinding along with the music and her face flushed a little. Betty was sure her own face was bright red. 

“We were incredibly unsupervised, most of the time.” Toni offered with a shrug.

“I guess Mateo showed the song to my dad’s friend Mustang, and that’s how I started dancing.” Jughead said with a shrug. 

“Is your YouTube channel just Jughead dancing?” Archie asked with a furrowed brow. 

“Not just, I’ve got other dancers from Mustang’s studio, and dancers from the conservatory, but Jughead is required based on years of friendship and me putting up with his bullshit to not complain when I stick a camera in his face, so yeah, there’s a lot of Jughead dancing because there has to be. There’s some of me, I guess.” Toni shrugged again, taking a bite of her food. 

Cheryl grabbed Archie’s phone before the end of Yeah!, and Betty was kind of glad, it was getting hard to watch Jughead dance like that without becoming very...well. Anyway. Cheryl scrolled for a bit, then her eyes widened and she clicked another video. Silently (in the way that silent Cheryl was always just a little bit unsettling), she put the phone down, and a heavy drum beat played through the speakers. Toni was in this one, standing still in a blank white room, hip cocked to one side, tapping her foot in a high heeled black, studded combat boot, arms crossed across her chest.  _ Yeah...I can’t keep on losing you over complications, gone too soon, wait!  _

Betty felt her chest constrict as Toni started dancing, spinning in place, smooth and elegant. She was good, a talented dancer. Cheryl was watching the screen with interest and Betty smiled in spite of herself. The beat picked up. Jughead flipped on to the screen, landing on his knees in front of a bored and impatient looking Toni.  _ How many mistakes do it take til you leave and I’m left with my hand in my face all red in the face lookin’ at you like…I know I ain’t a saint if it ain’t too late, well... _

Betty’s eyes widened as the dance continued and she looked up. Jughead was staring at her from across the table, looking pained and confused and...hopeful, maybe? Everyone else was silently watching the video but Betty could feel the way Archie was watching the two of them from under his eyelashes, could feel Cheryl pressed against her, next to her, feel the questions. 

“So, Tiny Dancer, when did you film this one?” Cheryl asked with a smirk at Toni on her other side. 

She scoffed. “Oh man. Fangs calls me that, Tiny Dancer. He saved my number in his phone as Tiny Dancer.”

Cheryl scrunched up her nose. 

“Oh, how is Fangs?” Archie asked. “Also, why Fangs?”

It was Jughead’s turn to snort. “For like four years running, he was a vampire for Halloween when we were kids. For the fangs. He just really liked the fangs. He and Sweet Pea moved to Florida after we graduated high school.”

“Sweet Pea?” Veronica asked. 

Toni shrugged. “We don’t actually know his real name. His grandma always called him Sweet Pea. Teachers at school always just called him Mr. Peabody. He refuses to show anyone his license.”

“I think Fangs knows.” Jughead offered. 

“They literally know everything about each other. Sweet Pea calls him Edward sometimes. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Toni grinned. 

“You go by Jughead,” Archie added. 

“The real thing is worse.” Jughead griped. 

Toni laughed. 

“So back to my question, then?” Cheryl interjected, annoyed at being ignored and interrupted. 

“Oh, yeah. Uh, first semester of college. Jonesy here insisted, as soon as we had studio space.” Toni answered. 

“Interesting.” Cheryl said, looking very bored. 

Betty recognized the look on Cheryl’s face, and grabbed Archie’s phone back before they could find any more songs to play. When the YouTube video was no longer full screen, she could see the caption and the description. The title read “Dang! by Mac Miller Dance Cover.” In the description box, it said 

Dancers: Toni Topaz and Jughead Jones. 

Choreographed by Jughead Jones. 

A note from the choreographer: For the best dancer in Connecticut. I’m sorry. “ What a mess I made us, sense, I make none. It's complicated, keeping me up late. Can't concentrate, you're always on my brain”

 

Betty was pretty sure she was choking. She couldn’t breathe. She closed the app, handed the phone back to Archie, and finished her lunch without hearing another word that was said. She could feel Jughead staring at her from across the table, could hear her sister telling her friends all those years ago that Betty was “the best dancer in Connecticut.” She hadn’t realized Jughead had heard that. Quickly, she finished her food, knowing she should slow down, savor it (it was shockingly good for cafeteria gumbo, really), but she couldn’t. 

“Hey, I have to go unpack and stuff, and, uh. Apparently Jughead and I have to prepare a dance for the opening talent show, so. I gotta go, but I’ll see you guys later?” Betty adjusted her ponytail, straightened her sweater, and picked up her tray. 

“Of course, darling.” Cheryl gave her an appraisingly concerned look, but said nothing about it. “I’m ordering sushi for dinner, I can’t keep eating this madness all summer.”

Betty resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Oo, you know a good sushi place around here?” Veronica was sparkling. 

Cheryl scowled. “Of course I do.”

Archie frowned. 

“Sure thing, Cher. You know my usual, I’ll have my phone if you need me!” Betty painted a smile on her face and walked to the trash can. She was thankful that no one followed her this time. 

 

When she got back to her dorm room, with its single twin bed and massive windows, she sat down, hard, on the unmade bed, fingers pressed into her thighs. Could she do this? Do this dance with Jughead, after everything? Could they repair this rift? She had forgiven him, and had resigned herself to never seeing him again. She had convinced herself that she was no longer in love with him, but seeing him there, across the table from her, seeing him dancing, seeing the weight of everything that had happened to him falling on his shoulders, holding him down, it made her head spin. 

With quick and practiced precision, Betty started unpacking. Something about cleaning and organizing made her feel a little bit better, like she was accomplishing something here. In less than an hour, she had her bed made, her clothes put away, and was dressed in leggings and a loose tank top. A soft knock tapped at her open door. She spun around. 

Jughead was standing there, literally holding his hat in his hand, looking apologetic, looking like a terrified 14 year old boy all over again. “Betty.” He whispered. 

Betty took a deep breath. “Let’s just go see if we still know this dance, yeah?”

He nodded. She grabbed her phone and her dance bag, pulled the door closed behind her, and walked with Jughead to the dance studio. They were walking next to each other, and it felt like it would be so easy to just reach across the void and grab his hand, but Betty held the strap of her dance bag tight in her hand instead. 

“I saw you read the caption,” Jughead started. 

“Jug…”

“Please, Betty, just…” He looked heavier, somehow. “You have to know, it’s true. I thought about you every damn day. God, Toni wanted to kick my ass half the fucking time, she kept telling me you’d understand. Even Sweet Pea and Fangs tried to talk to me about it. But. I just.”

“I know, Juggie.” Betty did know, she did. 

 

They arrived at the dance studio. After a quick stretch, a quick warm up, Betty turned on the music. The guitar opening made Betty feel a little like crying, but she just swallowed, clinging to the barre like it would hold her upright. She went through the motions, feeling the ache of being 17, terrified, shaking and desperately in love and worried she’d never be good enough. Jughead’s face mirrored her own, pained and somehow nostalgic. When he touched her, she barely avoided flinching, and  _ Why you always running in place? Even the man in the moon disappeared, somewhere in the stratosphere,  _ and she was supposed to run into Jughead’s arms. She did, tears streaming down her face. He caught her, his arms strong, but his face was wet with tears, as well. They got to the first chorus, him gently placing her back on the ground,  _ I’m not angry, I’m just saying...sometimes goodbye is a second chance,  _ and Betty collapsed on the hardwood floor of the studio, shoulders shaking. The music kept going, telling her not to cry, and Jughead was kneeling in front of her, hand on her shoulder.

“I can’t do this, Jug.” She whispered. 

“Do what?” He asked, wiping his face. “The dance?”

She shook her head. “I’m scared.”

“Scared?” He looked confused. “Betty, you’re not scared of anything.” 

She looked up at him, his blue eyes bright. “Me!? I’m scared of everything! I’m scared of my mother, scared of what I’ve been through, of what I could’ve become, and...most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you!”

Jughead was standing, now, and abruptly turned to look at her. Betty stood up, fists clenched at her sides.  _ I’m not angry, I’m just saying....sometimes goodbye is a second chance! _ Suddenly, there was no space between the two of them. Jughead was standing directly in front of Betty, hand wrapped around her upper arm, tight enough that Betty’s breath caught. His eyes were fire-bright and shocking. 

Without thinking about it, Betty leaned forward, crashing their lips together. Jughead let out a gasp against her mouth, and then pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling his strong arms around her waist. His lips were slightly chapped, and she remembered the last time they had kissed. Her hands had been cold then, her waist thinner. Passingly, she wondered if Jughead was thinking about the same thing. 

One of his hands found her hair, pulling it out the ponytail, running his fingers through the blonde tresses. She leaned into his gentle touch, her tongue playing at the seam of his lips. The song track changed to a different song on her playlist, the opening to  _ 1, 2, 3, 4  _ by the Plain White T’s coming through the speaker. 

Finally, they pulled away from each other. Jughead leaned his forehead against hers. 

“Betts.” He whispered. 

“Don’t you dare ever leave me like that again, Jughead Jones, or I will kick your ass myself.” Betty whispered back. 

“I could never.” He shook his head, the rocking awkward against her forehead. “It nearly killed me the first time, I’m never letting go of you again.” 

She kissed him once, chaste and sweet, and then leaned back in his arms. “We have a dance to practice. Camp to plan. College, Juggie. You go to school in Virginia, I go to school in Pittsburgh.”

He brushed a stray hair back from her face. “That’s less than like, 4 hours in a car, Betts. We’ve got the whole summer to figure it out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned forward, kissing her gently. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Elizabeth Cooper.”

Betty felt herself blush. “Well, Forsythe Pendleton Jones, III, you’re no slouch yourself.” 

He grimaced. 

_ You make it easy… it’s easy as 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4… _

“Thank you, Betty. For the second chance. For…” 

“I love you, Jughead.”

“I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, I love you deeply. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also, if you care, Point Park is a real university in Pittsburgh. Pretty cool place. 
> 
> I'm like Tinker Bell. I need attention, or I'll probably die. Kudos and comments keep me alive!! Xoxo  
> As usual, if you want to ask me anything, recommend anything, request anything, scream into a void, my tumblr is iamthececimonster

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are super appreciated!
> 
> My tumblr: iamthececimonster


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